


Promise Me Forever

by lickitysplit, solynacea



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, F/M, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:35:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 52,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24560032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lickitysplit/pseuds/lickitysplit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solynacea/pseuds/solynacea
Summary: An old, long-forgotten promise between gods comes back to haunt Dante when it deposits an unfamiliar woman on his door. Claiming to be the descendant of Ler, she says that they're meant to fulfill the oath made by Sparda centuries ago, and all he can do is watch as she turns his life upside down. Yet when her parents come knocking, demanding the oath be fulfilled, he's forced to choose: return to the bachelor ways he loved so much, or give in to the emotions brewing between them.
Relationships: Dante (Devil May Cry)/Original Character(s), Dante (Devil May Cry)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 101
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, solynacea here! I'd like to welcome you to _Promise Me Forever_ , an indulgent arranged marriage AU that lickitysplit and I have been working on while cooped up due to quarantine. It stars Dante and an original character named Lir, and features what we believe are all of the good points to have: mutual pining, angst, and, of course, the eventual smut. If you enjoy this fic, please let us know, whether through comments, kudos, or sending us a private message.

As the vehicle _ —a taxicab,  _ she reminds herself—lets her out at the curb, Lir takes a moment to simply observe her surroundings. While she knows of the outside world, she has never experienced it for herself; her life, until now, was spent in the compound, being trained in the arts of seduction and diplomacy and the more mundane things expected of a wife, and she is startled by how loud, how  _ filthy,  _ the city is. It makes her more than a little homesick for the clear air of the coast where she was born, the peaceful silence of the library within which she whiled away the hours between her lessons.

Still, she is here to perform a duty, and so she squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, and climbs the stairs to the building in front of her, glancing only briefly at the sign that reads  _ Devil May Cry. _

The second she opens the door, the scents of old food and stale beer assault her nose. Breathing shallowly through her mouth, she steps inside and frowns. The room is spacious, to be certain, and hints at the grandeur it could achieve, but with the busted jukebox in the corner, the old, ratty couch on an equally threadbare rug, the beer bottles and empty pizza boxes littered across every surface, she's surprised anyone actually lives here. Her eyes trace the strange weapons hung haphazardly on the walls between posters of scantily clad women before landing on the chipped desk and, settled behind it with his feet on its surface and a magazine over his face, a man.

"Excuse me," Lir says, approaching him with the same care she'd use for a wild dog, "I'm looking for the son of Sparda."

The magazine shifts as the man turns his head. With a glove-covered hand, he lifts the pages to peer at her from beneath before dropping it back into place with a grunt. "What makes you think he's here?"

"My mother told me that I would find him at the shop known as the Devil May Cry. This is the correct place, is it not?" She works to keep her hands from fidgeting with her skirt.  _ A lady,  _ her mother had informed her,  _ never twiddles her fingers.  _ "Am I in the wrong place?"

"Nope, this is the shop.  _ My  _ shop, actually." He sighs as he sits up, his boots thudding to the floor, and she takes in the pale hair and handsome face, noting the similarities between it and the portraits she had been shown of Sparda. "Name's Dante. What can I do for you?"

Slowly, still wary, she steps forward, reaching into the bag at her side to pull out a letter that she holds out for him to take. "My name is Lirael, but you may call me Lir. I'm here regarding the promise made between Sparda and my father."

"Sparda, huh?" He folds his arms and leans back in his chair, ignoring the letter, the leather creaking a bit as he regards her. "Sparda is long gone, you know."

Lir swallows nervously. "I'm sorry to hear that. We had known he hadn't been seen for many years, but not that he was . . . Well." She waits for Dante to say something, and when he simply stares at her, she clears her throat uncomfortably. "I understand he had a son. That's who I am looking for."

"He had two sons, actually," Dante replies.

Her eyes open wide in surprise. "Oh! That I didn't know. Where is the eldest?"

"He's dead, too."

Lir feels heat on her neck, a mixture of embarrassment and anger. "Are you mocking me?" she snaps. She takes a step forward and presses her lips together. "Who are you, anyway?"

Dante chuckles, the sound bearing an edge of scorn. "I said he had two, didn't I? I'm the second. Gotta say, though, the old man never mentioned anything about some promise. Sure you got the right demon?"

"Yes, I'm certain," she replies, her tone clipped. "The promise was made millennia ago, during the war between the worlds. In return for aid in sealing the portals, Sparda promised his son's hand in marriage to one of the daughters of Ler."

"Lir? Thought that was your name."

"I was named for the god my people serve." She lifts her chin. "If you are  _ truly  _ one of his sons, and the eldest is . . . gone, then that means I now belong to  _ you." _

His brows lift. "Tempting, but I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I'd offer to pay for your cab home, but I don't have the cash. Have a safe trip."

He goes back to lounging, and she can only stare at him, her heart beating uncomfortably in her chest. If she fails here, it will mean a life of solitude and seclusion and being stricken from her family's records, and she swallows thickly and moves around the desk to stand next to him. "Is there something about me you find displeasing? I know that I am not . . . the most endowed of my sisters, yet I was trained just as they were in the arts of pleasure, so I am certain I can satisfy you."

Slowly he lifts his face, his expression completely unreadable. Lir stares back, trying not to panic as she waits for him to speak. "Well?" she finally demands.

"Sorry, I . . . uh, what did you say?"

She sighs loudly, hands balling into fists so to keep her temper. "I  _ said, _ I am trained in the arts of pleasure, and—"

"That's what I thought you said."

He stands and takes her by the arm, and for a moment Lir  _ does _ panic as he drags her behind him. This is what she has been raised for, instructed her whole life: fulfill the promise of her god and become wife to the son of Sparda. But to be handled so roughly and dragged to his bedroom, to be used like this—

Until she realizes he is dragging her towards the door, bending to pick up her suitcase on the way. "Hey!" she cries. "What are you doing?"

"This has been swell, and I don't know if it was Lady or Trish that put you up to this, but you gotta go."

Lir struggles against his grip, forcing Dante to curse under his breath as he tugs her along. "It's not a joke! Please, just listen!" She pulls as hard as she can, wrenching from his fingers and landing in a heap on the floor.

Dante stands over her with a scowl and his hands on his hips. "Enough is enough. What do you want?"

"I told you! I'm here to marry the son of Sparda and fulfill . . ." Her voice fades as emotion wells in her throat, and in frustration she swipes at her eyes, hot tears threatening to fall. "I thought I was coming here to meet a legendary knight, not some buffoon in a dirty warehouse!"

"I  _ am _ a legendary knight," he bites back with a frown.

"You are rude and disgusting," Lir shouts, climbing to her feet. "If I were not bound to marry you—"

"Woah, woah, sweetheart, slow down with the marrying," Dante yelps, putting his palms up. "I ain't marrying anybody. Look, I don't know what my old man said to your old man or god or whatever, but I'm not marrying you, and I sure as hell not gonna date some, uh . . . whatever it is you are." He gestures up and down as she goes red. "So you're gonna have to just go back to where you came from and explain."

"I can't."

Dante rolls his eyes. "You have to."

"No, I can't! I can't go back, they'll . . ." She sucks in a sharp breath, digging her nails into her palms. "Can we just . . ."

"Oh, no." He leans over, peering closer. "No, no, no. Are you crying?"

"No."

"Because there is  _ no _ crying in my shop."

"It's not like I want to be!" Humiliated both by having been caught crying and by how poorly this whole thing is turning out, she turns away from him to rub at her cheeks, trying to wipe the moisture away. "I can't go back," she repeats, miserably. "They'll punish me, and a failure of this magnitude would mean . . ."

There is a heartbeat's worth of silence before he says, "They really take this, uh . . . this marriage that seriously?"

Lir nods, still refusing to look at him. "I'm not the eldest of my line, but the council thought . . . well, they thought that I would be best suited as your wife, because my magic is stronger than my sisters'. I was raised for this purpose alone. If I return to tell them that you refused me . . . It would mean I'm too flawed, and they would take my voice and send me to the archives."

She wraps her arms around herself, waiting for his word. Anger still simmers below the surface despite her best attempts to soothe herself; hasn't her entire life been waiting for someone else's word on where to go, what to wear, who to marry? And here she is again, waiting on the word of someone else.

Lir risks a glance to see him rubbing his cheek, covered in a line of stubble. "Okay. You don't have to, uh . . . go get your voice taken or whatever. Just stay right there, okay?"

She nods and watches him walk over to his desk. Dante faces her as he moves backwards, his hands out as if she were something dangerous, about to pounce or explode. Lir frowns, wondering why he is behaving this way; surely he fights demons every day, and isn't afraid of anything?

He picks up the receiver of his telephone and presses a few buttons. "Hey," he says, his eyes still on her. "You busy? . . . No, I don't have your money, but . . . Will ya listen to me? There is this girl here and, uh . . . she's crying."

"I am not!" Lir shouts.

"Just come." He bangs down the receiver and sweeps a hand through his hair. "My friend Lady is on her way. She'll help you figure out what to do."

"Is she your lover?" she asks. Dante stares at her, his lips parted with surprise, and her cheeks heat. "I'm sorry, I only . . . I thought that might explain why you . . . why you didn't want to go through with this."

"Lady would put a bullet in my head before she'd do anything like that," he replies, his voice oddly flat. "She's a devil hunter, but she's the only one I know who might be able to do something for you."

"Do something . . .?"

He nods once. "Yeah. Get you set up in an apartment or somethin', if that's what you want to do, make sure that you don't have to go back to wherever it is you came from."

Lir shakes her head, following him as he walks through the shop. "I don't want to go to an apartment. I want to—"

He stops suddenly and she nearly crashes into him as she pulls up short. Dante turns around and glares down at her, the top of her head barely coming to his collarbone. She bites back the rest of her sentence as she looks up in almost awe, the sheer size of him intimidating this close. Far below the surface she can sense the demon powers that lurk in his blood, and, inside  _ that, _ the thread that connects them through the oath that was made, like a thin gold chain, beautiful and brittle.

"You what?" he growls. 

"I take it that Sparda never spoke about us," she murmurs.

"I'm not interested in hearing about Sparda from some girl crying in my shop," he says. But the taunt is not unkind, just sharp, and Lir lifts her chin. "Save it for Lady. She'll help you out."

"Fine." Lir spins on her heel, her lips twisting at the "hey!" Dante yelps as her hair smacks him, and stomps over to the chairs that serve as the waiting area near the door. She sits properly, as she was taught, ankles crossed and tucked back, her hands folded on her lap as she stares straight ahead.

He watches her for a few seconds before shaking his head with a shrug. Then he returns to the position she'd found him in, though she can feel his eyes on her from beneath the magazine spread once more over his face. Lir tries to meditate, something she had been taught to do whenever feeling upset— _ a lady should never show her anger, in case she makes her husband uncomfortable _ —but her mind refuses to clear. For every lesson she had sat through, none of them had covered what to do if Sparda had failed to mention his promise to his sons, if she was rejected.

Nearly an hour has passed in stony silence before the sound of an engine cuts through the air, idling outside the shop before going silent. She squares her shoulders and turns her attention to the door just as a woman with short-cropped hair steps through it, lifting her sunglasses to peer around with cool eyes. It doesn't take her long to spot Lir, yet it's Dante she addresses first. "What the hell did you do this time?"

"Me?" Dante drawls, unmoving. "I didn't do a thing. She wandered in here spouting off about getting married and started crying when I said it wasn't gonna happen."

"Married?" The woman barks out a laugh. "You sure you didn't imagine it?"

Lir frowns, wondering if this is the one Dante spoke to on the phone. "Excuse me," she interjects, as politely as she can, "but he's exaggerating the truth. I was sent to fulfill a promise made between his father and mine, and he has no interest in it, so we've come to a bit of a stalemate."

The woman turns and looks her over curiously. "What's your name?"

"Lir," she answers. "I'm the direct descendent of the god Ler, 60th in his line."

"Sixty?" Dante mutters, but she ignores him.

"The savior of humanity, the knight Sparda, asked Ler for his help in sealing the demon realm," she continues. "In exchange, Ler made him take an oath that his son would marry his daughter. Sparda agreed, although he did not have any progeny until . . ." Her eyes trail over to where Dante is sprawled and her brows draw down. "And here we are."

The woman laughs, shaking her head. "That is some story." She smirks and jerks her chin at Dante. "Did Trish do this?"

"I wish." Dante sighs and gestures towards Lir. "Would you do something with her?"

"And what am I supposed to do?" the woman demands, her hands on her hips.

"I don't know. Take her somewhere."

Lir opens her mouth to protest, but the woman shakes her head. "Bad idea, Dante. If what she says is true, then Sparda made an oath to a  _ god. _ That much magic power binds you, and you want to just break it? Any idea what would  _ happen _ if you decide to defy an oath between gods?"

Dante makes a face. "Is it bad?"

"Bad is an understatement. From what I understand, you'd wish you simply died instead of enduring the punishment you could suffer." The woman glances at Lir. "Which leaves the question of what to do with  _ her.  _ Why haven't you sent her home?"

He yawns. "Said she can't go back without losing her voice. Or something like that."

"That true?" The woman turns to her.

"Yes," Lir replies. "As I told him, if I return having failed to fulfill the promise, I will be punished for it, my voice taken, my name and history stricken from the annals and sent to spend the rest of my life in the archives."

Both of them study her, the woman with a frown and Dante with narrowed eyes. "Well," the woman says, "in that case, you're going to stay right here."

"What!"

She holds up a hand to quiet Dante, and Lir's brows raise. Are all the women around here so forceful, or is this one different? "I'll go see if her story checks out. Should be easy enough. I'll also see if I can get the details on this oath."

Lir fidgets as Dante leans over the desk and growls, "And how much is  _ this _ going to cost me?"

The woman smiles sweetly. "We can negotiate the price once I see if there is anything worth finding."

He grumbles and waves his hand as she turns to Lir. "Will you write down where your home is? And any other contact information?"

Lir hesitates as the woman extracts a pen and pad of paper from the bag slung on her hip. "If they find out he has rejected me—"

"I'll be discreet, I promise," she says.

Lir studies her for a moment, her heart pounding. Her face seems kind beneath the sternness, and then she notices her eyes are two different colors, making her blush a bit. "It is said that heterochromia is a sign of truth-telling," Lir murmurs, accepting the pad and pen.

"Hetero-what?" Dante shouts.

Lir shoots him a look but the woman just laughs. "That's new to me. But I'll take it." Lir goes to work writing down information, and when she is finished, her smile is genuine. "Don't let him push you around," she says, nodding towards Dante. "He might look scary but he's a big softie underneath."

A loud snort comes from the devil hunter, and Lir masks her own laugh. "What is your name?" she asks.

"Lady is fine. I'll call you in three days," she hollers over her shoulder, and with a final wave she exits the shop, leaving Lir alone with Dante.

Another silence, no less awkward than the first, descends in her wake. Lir does not need to look to feel Dante's displeasure; it makes the air between them thick and unpleasantly heavy, and she nearly bites her lip before she catches herself. Her family, her tutors, all of them had assured her that this was an honor, that she would be greeted with warmth, and yet . . . She glances at him from the corner of her eye, suppressing a wince at the thunder on his brow. 

Uncertain of what else to do, she stands, intending to go and see if there is anything in the kitchen she can use to make a meal for him. His voice stops her. "Sit down."

"What?"

"Sit. Down." Dante points to the chair she's just left. "Lady might buy the wounded damsel bit, but not me, so you're not going anywhere until I hear what she's found."

"You still think this is a joke?" Disbelief colors her voice heavily. "Why would  _ anyone  _ pull such a prank?"

His eyes are cold, assessing. "Might not be a prank. Might be someone wants a shot at me or something I've got hidden away here."

"Hidden away?" The laugh leaves her before she can stop it, tumbling from her throat before she even realizes. "Is there anything inside this place besides trash? Your antique collection of socks, perhaps?"

Dante stands, glowering at her, and Lir snaps her mouth closed. He grits his teeth, more than likely struggling to keep his temper, and her heart tightens as she waits to hear whatever rebuke he is preparing. But Dante simply points again, his voice like shards of glass. "Sit down and don't speak."

Lir obeys immediately, her training overtaking her defiance in her fear. She watches as Dante tries to make another phone call, then another, and on the third try when he gets no answer he lets go a string of curses. "Why is no one home when I need them?" he shouts, slamming the receiver down.

He walks around his desk, grabbing his leather coat from the coat rack and heads towards the door. "Where are you going?" she calls.

"Out." He pauses as he walks by, and they exchange a look, his furious and hers cautious. "Just stay right there."

"Lady said she'd call in three days," Lir protests as he turns. "You can't expect me to sit in this chair the whole time."

He mutters under his breath before jerking his chin to the steps. "There's a spare bedroom upstairs. Last door on the right. I'll be back in a few hours." Then he steps closer, pointing his finger at her with an edge to his voice. "Don't get comfortable, sweetheart. You can stay here tonight but tomorrow you're out of here. And don't touch any of my stuff, got it?"

"I . . ." His lips press together, and she deflates, teetering on the edge of true despondency.  _ So much,  _ she thinks,  _ for a warm welcome.  _ "Yes. I understand."

Dante turns, his boots thudding on the floor, and the slam of the door makes her flinch. With no one around, there is no reason to keep up the pretense of decorum, and Lir folds in on herself, covering her face with her hand as she struggles not to cry. All she had wanted in coming here was to make her mother proud, to prove to everyone who said she was too willful, too curious, too  _ everything  _ to succeed wrong. Yet it seems like it was all for nothing; she failed, and horribly at that.

Once she is certain that she has swallowed her tears, she stands and heads towards the stairs. Yet she pauses, staring blankly at the piles of trash on every available surface, twisting the hem of her shirt in her fingers. Dante had told her not to touch anything, but maybe if she proves to him that she's capable, despite her youth, of taking care of him . . . 

With a nod, she goes to the kitchen. The state of it makes her groan, pizza boxes and beer bottles everywhere, dishes stacked high in the sink, the counters stained, but she rolls up her sleeves and pulls her hair into a braid. Under the sink, to her surprise, is a spray bottle of bleach, a thing of furniture polish, a full box of trash bags,  _ four  _ unopened bottles of dish soap, and even some purple liquid labelled as a floor disinfectant. If he has all of this, Lir wonders, why doesn't he take care of his home?

"A man is incomplete without a wife," she murmurs out loud; one of the sayings repeated since her youth that feels even more ridiculous now. She pulls the supplies out and opens the first trash bag, going through the junk in the kitchen as she starts to clean. It will be hours before she is tired anyway, and Lir figures this is a good use of her energy. And who knows? Maybe Dante will see that she can be useful after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to part two of _Promise Me Forever!_ I missed the upload date yesterday (damn you for being so fun, Spyro . . .), so I hope you’ll pardon my being late. As always, we hope you enjoy, and please don’t hesitate to let us know if you do, whether through comments, kudos, or sending us a private message!

The sun is down and the streetlights are on when Dante walks into the Devil May Cry, nearly colliding with Lir who is just on the other side of the door. "Stop doing that!" he shouts, reaching out on reflex to grab her elbow to keep her from falling.

"You're back!" she cries, looking up at him in surprise.

"Yeah," he sighs. He frowns at her flushed face and the trash bag in her hand. "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning." She heaves the trash bag up, almost as big as she is, and pushes it at him. "Take this out, would you?"

Dante holds up his hands. "Woah, wait, what are you doing? Didn't I tell you not to touch my stuff?"

Lir glares at him, giving him a look that would be intimidating if she wasn't a head shorter than him. "I'm not touching your stuff," she snaps. "I'm cleaning your mess. Did you know you even  _ had _ towels?"

He frowns and looks around. The lights are on, and the shop looks . . .  _ different. _ The floors are sparkling, the piles of containers and papers on his desk are gone, the boots and clothing items in piles have been removed, and there is a scent of  _ clean _ in the air. "You what?"

"I cleaned. The kitchen and the office and that  _ thing _ you called a bathroom." Lir holds up the trash bag again. "Now take this outside."

Momentarily at a loss for words—a rarity for him, to be certain—he takes it from her and turns around, carting it easily to the cans in front of the building. Not only is each one full of things he's been neglecting to throw away, but it's all been sorted, as well, the recycling tucked neatly into its respective bins, glass separated from paper, which has been separated from plastic. Not sure what to make of it, Dante drops the new addition into the least full can and heads back into the shop.

He finds Lir sitting on the floor, her knees tucked beneath her as she works on scrubbing the baseboards, and he pauses to take her in. She's cute, hell, she's  _ gorgeous,  _ but she's also  _ young.  _ There's now way she's any older than twenty, maybe twenty-five if he's being generous, and he scratches the stubble on his cheek with a sigh as she leans over, her skirt clinging to her backside.  _ I was trained in the arts of pleasure. _

Pleasure. Right.

"There a reason you did all of this?" Dante asks. She looks at him, and he's struck, like he was the first time he saw her, by the bright amber of her eyes, not unlike the whiskey sitting in polished bottles on the shelves. "Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful. Just seems like you could have found something else to do."

Lir huffs, not quite a laugh, as she wipes her forearm on her brow. "Do what? I wasn't cooking in that kitchen. No way I was using that bathroom." Dante rolls his eyes as she gestures towards the steps. "I didn't get much done upstairs yet, but I did put all the bedding in the washing machine. Should be done soon."

"I have a washing machine?" She frowns at him until she realizes he is kidding, and Dante smirks when she makes a face.

"Very funny." She drops her sponge into a bucket, standing and stretching her back. "Are you hungry?"

"Uh, I guess?" Dante shrugs and stashes his guitar case, pausing to rub his fingers along the polished wood of his desk. "I was going to order a pizza."

Lir laughs behind him. "You can't eat that junk. Come on, I've made you something."

Curious, Dante follows her into the kitchen, his mouth dropping open when he enters. It is  _ sparkling, _ the counters and floors and sink shining, the table washed, the stove cleaned of its stains. There is an amazing smell coming from the oven, and it is almost enough to distract him from watching as Lir bends over to open the oven door. He tilts his head to admire her backside as she reaches in, quickly straightening when she places something on the top and turns around. "Sit down," she smiles sweetly.

He complies, but watches her carefully. "It's not poison, is it?" he asks.

"No," Lir laughs.

He watches in surprise as she moves around, pulling a knife from one drawer, a spatula from another, a plate from a cabinet overhead. "I have oven mitts?" Dante says in surprise, and Lir chuckles as she places a plate in front of him.

"There you are," she says, her voice sweet. Dante looks at her in shock, then back down at the plate, where a huge piece of lasagna sits, steaming hot and covered in perfectly golden layers of cheese. "Much better than a yucky old pizza, isn't it?"

He swallows, his mouth suddenly watering as his stomach growls, still too astonished to argue her pizza comments. Lir hands him silverware and moves to get her own plate. She returns to the table and sits across from him, a smaller piece on her own plate, and she gestures to him as she lays a napkin on her lap. "Go on," she laughs. "Try it."

She doesn't have to tell him twice. Trying to have  _ some  _ semblance of table manners, he uses the knife to cut a bite-sized portion of the lasagna and plops it in his mouth, uncaring of how it singes his tongue. It tastes absolutely  _ divine,  _ the sauce rich, the cheese melted to a cream, the meat cooked to perfection, the noodles firm, and he quickly swallows the first bite and dives in for another. Across from him, Lir smiles as she starts on her own, and he watches her take dainty, measured bites.

"Gotta tell you," Dante says, taking a swig of the beer she'd placed at his elbow, "you're a better cook than I gave you credit for."

She perks up at that, and it almost hurts him how much such a simple bit of praise from him means to her. "I'm glad you're enjoying it," she replies, the faint lilt to her voice soft and sweet. "I wasn't entirely certain what to make for you, but I thought that this was similar enough to pizza that you might find it to your tastes."

He stuffs another huge forkful in his mouth, nodding as he swallows. "It's great. Really." Lir smiles and ducks her face, taking her own much smaller bite.

She sighs as she chews, reaching for a glass of water as he eats. "I'm surprised I had all the ingredients," he remarks. "I had no idea I had lasagna noodles!"

"Oh, I made them," she says as she blows on another bite.

Dante nearly chokes. "You made lasagna noodles? From scratch?"

Lir shrugs. "It's just some flour and eggs." She meets his gaze, chuckling behind her hand. "What, is it hard?"

His surprise turns to suspicion again. "Where did you learn to do all this?"

"I told you, I was raised and trained to marry the son of Sparda." Dante winces, hearing it said out loud again making him feel ridiculous. "Besides, every adult on the planet knows how to cook and clean," she says quickly. "Except you, perhaps."

He considers that, and her. It's hard to picture her as either a thief or an assassin; she's damn near tiny, especially next to him, and she'd been upfront about knowing magic, which wouldn't be the smartest move to make if she meant him harm. And her hands are smooth, free of calluses or any other sign that she's ever held a weapon. "Never had time to learn, I guess," he replies.

Dante watches the gears churning behind her eyes. Another mark against her in terms of being sent to fight him: her face is an open book, her emotions displayed without any attempt to conceal them. "I see," she says. "Well, I can make other meals for you, if you wish. And if you tell me what sort of things you don't like, I can avoid using them as ingredients."

"Olives."

"Olives?"

"Hate 'em." He takes another drink of beer. "Pizza place I usually order from knows I don't like 'em, so they'll put 'em on whatever I ask for if I owe 'em money. Which is more often than not."

"I see." She stands and takes her empty plate to the sink. "Anything else?"

"I like strawberries," he offers.

Lir smiles over at him. "So do I."

The sweetness makes him almost uncomfortable, and he finishes his meal in silence as he watches her. Lir seems very much at home in his kitchen, washing the plate and utensils, finding some tinfoil to cover the leftovers before sliding the pan into the refrigerator, then running some water and soap in the sink to wipe down the stove. He doesn't ever remember anyone acting like this—even his adoptive mother never was so domestic, as they were on the move all the time—and he can't really remember much about Eva than a few specific memories. And the women in his life  _ now, _ Lady and Trish specifically, wouldn't clean his kitchen for a million dollars. He makes a mental note to ask Nero if Kyrie is like this, betting she might be.

It's . . . nice, he decides.

"All done?" she asks, moving to take his plate.

"I'll do it," Dante insists, standing and sliding around her to take the plate to the sink. Quickly he washes it up and deposits it into the dish rack as Lir wipes the table behind him.

When he is done, she is gone, and he finds her in the laundry room off the side of the kitchen, pulling sheets out of the dryer. "Need any help?" he asks from the doorway.

"It's alright." She gives him one of those smiles again, like she's happy just to be around him, and he doesn't know what to make of it. "Why don't you take a shower? There are fresh towels in the bathroom, and I found some shampoos tucked under the vanity."

Lir's expression is bright, but there is something that sits uneasy, so he decides on a little experiment. Leaning one arm up on the doorway, he grins and says, "Want to join me?"

The shock on her face is almost worth it, as is the red that stains her cheeks. "I, uh . . . we aren't married yet," she stammers.

"Did they not teach you how to shower in your pleasure class?" he teases.

She shoots him a look, and he sees a bit of the fire from earlier. "No," she answers sharply. "I was taught how to behave properly."

Dante snorts. Lir tries to step around him, but he does not budge, giving her a sultry look. "You're here to please me, right? Isn't that what you said?"

"Yes, but—"

"You made me dinner. Cleaned my place. I'd love to take you upstairs," he says, low and teasing.

Lir looks almost startled. "Are you being serious?" she hisses.

Dante shrugs. "I mean, like you said, we're not married, and yet you're doing all the other stuff."

"I thought if I showed you—" 

She cuts herself off, and Dante raises his brows. "Go ahead," he taunts her. "Finish your thought."

Her shoulders slump. "I thought if I showed you that I could do those things, you'd want to keep me. And I . . . The cooking lessons weren't exactly pleasant, but I enjoyed making that for you."

"I see. Thought you could get one over on me, hm?" Lir's eyes go wide as she shakes her head, but Dante pushes, "Thought if you cooked me something, swept up a bit, swing your ass in my direction that I'd just fall head over heels for you?"

Her jaw tenses, and any guilt he feels for the accusation is canceled by the satisfaction of seeing it hit its mark. "That's it, hm? Thought your pretty smile and some homemade cooking would do the trick? Well guess what, honey.  _ This _ son of Sparda is smarter than he looks. And I still don't trust you."

"I just wanted to show you that I could be useful," she argues. He cocks a patronizing brow, smiling thinly as he waits for whatever justification she's going to come up with. "I thought if you . . . if you saw that I could help you somehow it would make up for . . . whatever it is about my appearance that you don't like."

Okay, that . . . felt weird. Bad weird, like a punch in his gut that left a puddle of slime in its wake. "It's, uh . . . not your looks, sweetheart," he says. "I just don't like strangers. Strangers are usually trouble."

Lir bows her head. "Women, too," he says. "Not a fan."

There is a pause, and then he watches her brows twitch, then rise almost to her hairline before she looks up at him with a gasp. "Oh! Oh! Is that . . . oh my goodness, I never even considered that!"

She covers her laugh with a hand as Dante frowns. "What?"

"You prefer men. Is that it?" Lir grins at him brightly as she nods. "No wonder you don't want to marry me! It all makes sense now!"

"What?  _ What?"  _ How did this happen, he wonders, watching her eyes light up with mirth. He had wanted to catch her off guard, to figure out what she's actually after, if it's something as simple as whatever promise his father made or more nefarious, and now he's left gaping at her, struggling for words  _ again.  _ "No. No! That's not . . . Where the hell did you come up with that?"

His surprise makes him sound angry, and Dante watches as the laughter on her face dies as quickly as it came, that odd sensation of doing something  _ wrong  _ back in his chest. "You said you aren't a fan of women," Lir says hesitantly.

"The only two I know are hunters," he replies, "and neither of them ever visit me with good news."

"Oh."

He scrambles for something. "Cindy is nice." The words are awful and, he realizes belatedly, the wrong thing to say when she takes a step back. "She's a gal who works at the ice cream counter. But she's pretty ignorant of the stuff I do."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. And Patty. You'll see her around here eventually, not a week goes by without that girl showing up here wanting something."

Her eyes are like saucers and Dante realizes how all this sounds. "Just friends!" he cries, putting up his hands. "But I'm not gay. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But I like ladies. And ladies like me. Just . . . not those ladies."

Lir frowns. "You don't like them or they don't like you?"

"They're . . ." What should he say? Calling Lady and Trish his  _ friends  _ feels too intimate; they all get along, sure, but they don't visit socially, Trish is often gone for months at a time working her own jobs, and Lady only really shows up to give him a job or collect money. "Business partners," he mumbles.

"All of them?"

"Nah. Well, Patty will tell you she is, but what she means is she likes to show up and redecorate my office and bug me about whatever soap opera she's watching." Dante scratches the back of his head. "Look, it's like this: I don't have a clue about this promise my old man is supposed to have made. I don't know you and, quite frankly, you don't know me. And . . ." His mind flickers dimly back to his mother. "Well, having a spouse in my line work is just asking for trouble. It's got nothing to do with your looks or you bein' useful. It's just not a good idea."

"Oh." Lir's eyes fall, as if thinking, and Dante rubs the back of his neck. "I guess I never thought of it like that. I had assumed you would know, it never occurred to me you wouldn't." She breathes a deep sigh and then shrugs. "I'll stay the night, if that's okay. Then tomorrow I'll figure out what to do."

"Yeah, yeah of course." He stands aside as she carries the linens out of the laundry room, trailing after her as she heads for the steps. "Let me get those," Dante insists, grabbing the pile she can barely see over as she climbs up the first one.

"I can do it fine," Lir protests, but he easily scoops them away. She bristles a bit but finally turns and heads upstairs, and Dante follows, trying hard not to stare at her backside and failing miserably.

* * *

Dante doesn't sleep well that night. He rarely does, but he finds himself straining to hear through the walls, wondering what his guest is doing to occupy herself, feeling something akin to guilt every time the hurt look on her face when she said she only wanted to be useful flashes in his thoughts. Those people couldn't have sent him a bitch, could they? Someone he could tear apart without remorse, someone with a body that didn't make his mouth water every time he caught a tease of it beneath their clothes?

Because that's the crux of it. Maybe Lir is untrustworthy, maybe she's lying to him, but he damn near  _ likes  _ her. She's clever, and pretty, and a good cook, and lord only knows how long it's been since his shop looked so clean. He covers his face with his hands, groaning. Would it really be so bad to keep her around?

Yes, because if she got killed, he'd never forgive himself.

Dawn comes with no rest in sight for him. He listens to Lir moving around next door before she heads downstairs, and he stares at the ceiling until the scents of coffee and bacon draw him out of his bed. Shrugging into a pair of sweatpants and deciding to forego a shirt, he follows her, and finds her in the kitchen, humming a little tune as she plates a mountain of scrambled eggs.

A wave of nostalgia washes over him—which is weird, because this is the first morning he's woken up to a woman in his shop, let alone one making him breakfast. The dress she wore yesterday has been traded in for a pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt, and Dante swallows, admiring how good she looks in normal clothes. There is something that tugs at his heart, too, the smell of the eggs reminding him of his childhood, the little hum making him embarrassed by how much he actually likes it.

"Good morning!" she says brightly, turning and carrying plates to the table. "Did you sleep well?"

He walks to the coffee machine and pours himself a cup of black. "Are you a morning person?" he asks, trying to sound gruff.

"Have to be where I come from." Dante frowns as he blows on the mug, carrying the sugar bowl to the table before settling on a chair. He wonders what exactly that means as she finishes plating the bacon and popping toast from the toaster, then takes the seat across from him.

"How about you?" he asks.

"Hm?" Lir glances up as she begins buttering a slice of toast.

"You sleep okay?"

She smiles to herself as he helps himself to food. "Yes and no. I was tired from the cleaning but sleeping in a city is . . . different. Odd to have so many lights and noises outside my window."

"It's quiet where you live?" He watches her closely, looking for any signs of deception.

But there are none. She tilts her head, taking a bite of her toast and chewing it thoughtfully, and he's struck by the utterly ridiculous urge to tuck the strands of hair at her cheek behind her ear. "I suppose. My home is . . .  _ was  _ on the coast, near the mountains. So there  _ were  _ noises, like rain and the ocean and wildlife, but the city is much louder, more . . . chaotic?"

"Was."

"Hm?"

"You said," he muses, "that your home  _ was  _ on the coast."

Her smile falters. "Well, yes. I told you yesterday that I cannot return there. When I was sent here, it was permanent. Even if you  _ had  _ . . . if we had been married, I wouldn't have been allowed back. Because we're not, I couldn't go home, even if I wanted to. So, was."

"They just chucked you out like that?" he asks.

Lir stiffens for a moment, but then her smile returns as she stands. "Want more coffee?" she asks, breezing back towards the sink and turning on the water to rinse the pan on the stove.

"No, I—"

"After I clean up here I'll head out," she says over him, her voice tight but still dripping in sweetness. "I have a bit of money, so I'll stay at a hotel so I won't be in your hair. I can start looking for a job or something this afternoon."

He rubs his face harshly, cursing under his breath. It's not her fault that she's here, and he doubts she knows anything about surviving outside of whatever compound raised her to be a broodmare for him. "Look," he says, sharper than he intends, "just stay here until Lady calls. Then we'll figure out what to do."

She hesitates before turning off the water. "That's very kind of you."

"Yeah. Well." Not sure what to say, he drains his mug, and Lir is right there with the coffee pot to refill it. He watches her move around the kitchen before going back to his meal, munching thoughtfully. "Won't be all bad, I guess," he says to himself.

After breakfast, Dante starts to wonder. Usually he's not up this early, and the rest of the morning stretches on without much to do. Typically he'd spend the first hour or so of his day in the bathroom, then scavenge around for leftovers before settling in for his afternoon nap. But Lir wanders the shop, hands behind her back as she examines each of his weapons on the wall, making him feel uncomfortable as he sits at his desk and watches her.

She pauses in front of a set of twin scimitars, leaning in to peer curiously at the heads etched into the pommels. "Where do these things come from?" she asks, not turning around, and he frowns.

"Devils," he answers. Lir goes very still, making him laugh. "Relax, they're harmless now. Sometimes, when there's a particularly strong demon, they'll lend me their strength as a weapon I can use. Those two," he stands and makes his way over to her, placing his hand against the small of her back, "are Agni and Rudra. I got them decades ago. Handy guys, if a bit chatty sometimes."

"Is that what you were doing last night?" she asks, leaning in closer to look at the swords. "Fighting devils?"

"No, I, uh . . ." Embarrassed, he clears his throat. "I went to see someone."

"Well, we know it wasn't a girl," one of the swords says, and Lir jumps in surprise, backing up into him.

"Unless he was paying!" the other laughs.

Lir spins on him, her mouth dropped open. "They talked!"

"I told you." To the twins, he mutters, "Zip it."

"But we have a guest!" Agni cries.

"Yes, a guest," Rudra agrees. "We must entertain her."

"How should we do that?"

"Well, we could—"

"I said zip it!" Dante barks. Thankfully they fall silent, though there's an air of reproach, and he returns his attention to Lir. "Like I said, they get chatty. You okay?"

She laughs as she nods. "Yes. It was just a surprise."

Dante snorts, but then he realizes his hand is still on her back and quickly snatches it away. "You can, uh, put the TV on if you want. Or use the computer? Patty set one up a while ago, over there," he says, nodding to where the couch and coffee table are, making a little sitting area. 

Lir nods. "Okay. I don't want to bother you while you're working though."

There is a round of laughter from the two swords on the wall, and Dante growls until they stop abruptly. "No trouble at all," he says through his teeth.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the day passes with more ease than Lir could have hoped for. Dante gets her set up on the computer, a marvel of technology she never truly got to use before, creating an account for her and walking her through how to use the search engine, where to find the games that were pre-installed. The fact that she has access to solitaire, even if it's digital, delights her, and she wastes a few hours playing through it. Then she finds a news site and reads through the articles on the first page;  _ a lady,  _ her mother said,  _ should know what is going on in the world in order to make conversation with her husband. _

Dante, for his part, doesn't seem to do as much work as she'd thought. There are a few phone calls that he answers tersely, but none that make him move from behind the desk, where he dozes. Lir tries not to look too closely at the magazine over his face. The woman on the cover is far more curvaceous than she could ever be, and she wonders, more than once, if that's the sort of thing he prefers.

She's just gotten up to see what she can make them for dinner when the door to the shop opens. A young man enters, and the similarities between him and Dante are striking enough that Lir can only stare as he crosses the room towards her. "Is this her?" he asks.

Dante rocks up. "Nero? The hell are you doing here?"

"Hey, you're the one who called me," Nero retorts. "You scared Kyrie half to death with that warning of yours, so I wanted to come and see for myself what the fuss was about." His piercing gaze shifts back to Lir. "She doesn't seem so dangerous."

"Dante?" Lir's eyes go wide as he strides over, and the way he crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at her gives her deja vu. 

The boy narrows his eyes as he scowls. "Who are you and what do you want?"

"Okay, lay off," Dante calls over.

She shrinks back towards the wall as he rolls his neck. "Start talking, lady, or—"

"Hey!" They both turn to see Dante leaning forward in his chair, a scowl on his face. "I  _ said _ lay off."

"No, you  _ said _ there was a woman here who was trying to kill you." The young man flings out his arm as he turns and scoffs. "I'm here to help!"

"Some help," Dante laughs. "You are about twelve hours too late."

"Yeah, well I spent all night behind a dumpster looking for a pack of demonic squirrels." He looks around with a frown. "Did you clean?"

"No." Dante nods to her. "She did. Her name, by the way, is Lir, and she's not going to kill anyone as far as I know. Though I might if you don't back up."

It doesn't sound entirely genuine, but Nero does take a few steps away, though he continues to eye her distrustfully. "Where'd she come from?"

"Somewhere up north."

"Why's she here?"

Dante glances at her as he says, "Personal business."

Nero points at him, obviously exasperated. "Listen, you. Kyrie was in  _ tears  _ when I got home, she was so worried about you. If you got her that fuckin' worked up over  _ nothing,  _ I'm gonna come over there and shove my fist up your—"

"Nero? Was that your name?" Lir interrupts, quickly standing.

Her heart is pounding when the young man turns and frowns at her. But if he is threatening Dante, she should help somehow, so she holds out her hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Lir."

He regards her suspiciously before shaking her hand. "Yeah, I'm Nero. Dante's a friend of mine." He puts his hands on his hips, and again the similarity between the two is striking. "So what's your personal business?"

"I'm here to marry Dante."

Before she can continue, Nero bursts out laughing, leaning over to brace himself on his knees to keep from falling over. "Dante! Oh my fuck, you ordered a bride? Are you insane?" He leans back with another round of laughter, wiping a tear from his eye. "Damn man, if you were that desperate I could have set you up with one of Kyrie's friends or something."

"I didn't order her," Dante sighs. "She's . . . It's sort of an arranged marriage thing."

"Wait, what?" Nero looks at her, and she nods. "Shit. Well, I feel sorry for you, Lir. This guy might be one of the best in the business, but he's never had any luck with the ladies."

"So I've heard." She glances between them again, noting the light hair, the strong jaw, the similar stance. "How do you two know each other again?"

"We met in Fortuna," Dante says. "I was on a job to deal with a cult, Nero worked for said cult. Wound up going against them when he realized what they had planned, but it's not like he knew they were bastards."

Nero gives a shrug. "I thought he was evil at first. Tried to kill him a couple of times."

"Never came close to it," Dante interjects, and Nero flips him off.

"Oh, I see." Lir studies them closely. "It's only . . . Well, you look so similar that I thought you might be related."

Nero scoffs loudly as Dante leans against his desk. "This guy? Yeah I don't think so." He chuckles and shakes his head. "I'd put a fucking bullet in my head if—"

"Okay, watch the language." Lir swallows her chuckle as Nero scowls at him defiantly. "You see? Everything is fine. You should head home."

"Yeah." But he's looking at her now, not Dante. "If you ever need to get away from this jackass for a while, give me a call. Kyrie would love the company. Hope you don't mind kids, though. We've got a couple. She runs an orphanage." There's more than a hint of pride in his voice, and it makes her smile.

"I'd love to visit, as long as Dante doesn't mind."

It's the right response by what she's been taught, but the way the two men glance at each other makes her feel that maybe it was the wrong thing to say. "Right," Nero says. "Well, be seeing you."

"Tell Kyrie I'm sorry for scarin' her," Dante calls after him. The door closes, and he sighs and settles back into his chair. "Kid's a pain," he says to Lir, "but his heart's in the right place."

"He's, um . . . interesting." She glances at Dante, who has gone back to his magazine. "You met him in Fortuna?"

"Yup."

Dante turns the page as she settles on the couch, frowning. "I read about Fortuna. That was last year, right? They had a cult dedicated to Sparda, your father."

"Yup."

She leans forward, brows raised expectantly, and when Dante doesn't look up she sighs loudly. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Don't you think it's strange that there is a city founded on the demon Sparda, and a boy there exactly like you?" Dante looks up finally, but she rambles on, "They had many of his artifacts, right? Maybe Sparda isn't dead. He could have been living there, and there might be evidence there that proves what I've been saying. Maybe we can find him! And if we find him, then maybe . . ." She looks at him with wide eyes, the wheels turning in her head with the possibilities. "Perhaps you're not the son of Sparda I'm looking for."

His expression goes so cold that she instinctively steps back. It's as though all the progress she'd made in the last twenty-four hours has disappeared, leaving them back in the mire of mistrust they'd started in. "He's been dead for almost forty years," Dante tells her, "and the only sons he had were yours truly and Vergil, who's been dead for twenty."

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. Lir knows that she's supposed to soothe him somehow, but, because  _ she  _ is the cause of his ire, she has no idea what to do. "I only meant that maybe you would be free from dealing with me. I wasn't trying to—"

"And Nero," Dante continues, speaking sharply over her, "has been through enough shit in his life without you going and causing more of it for him because you think you have to bed one of Sparda's bloodline to be worth something."

Tears rise very suddenly, humiliation flooding through her. "I'm sorry," she whispers, but Dante has already returned to his magazine as if nothing had happened.

She blinks rapidly, then turns and moves quickly through the building, hurrying up the stairs and to her room. Lir keeps herself from slamming the door, closing it firmly and moving to sit heavily on the bed, breathing slowly in and out to keep herself from crying.

After several minutes, she wipes her eyes and smooths her hands down her shirt. "I'll make it up to him," she says out loud, standing on shaky legs. Then Lir heads to the bathroom, getting to work scrubbing it from top to bottom, pouring her mixed up emotions into making the marble sparkle.

She is elbow deep in some unpacked boxes in his bedroom when Dante comes to find her. "Hey, Lir, about what I said—"

Lir looks up to see him looking around the room with a grin. "Hey, it looks great in here!"

She opens her mouth to respond before closing it, not sure what she should say to him, or if it even matters that she replies. He moves over and kneels next to her, reaching into the box to pull out a baseball mitt. "Huh," he mumbles, then sets it back inside. "Find anything interesting?"

"I've only just started," she says quietly.

"Right." His fingers drum on his thigh. "I'm sorry. I know I was a bastard to you, and you didn't deserve that. But Lir, you . . . I mean, do you  _ want  _ to just marry me? Is that it for you?"

Lir freezes. The question is one she has never heard before, and she realizes she has never even  _ considered _ it before. "It's hard for me to answer that," she replies slowly. "If I don't marry you, then what am I going to do?"

Dante shrugs. "You were talking about getting a job. You could do that. What do you want to do?"

She looks away, heat rising up her neck and burning her ears. The fact that she doesn't have an answer is humiliating, and she turns back to the box so Dante can't see her blush. "I'll have to think about that," she murmurs.

"Hey, why don't you give that a rest for a bit?" Lir glances out the side of her eye to see him tilting to the side, trying to catch her attention. "I'll take you out to eat. There's a good diner nearby."

"That's okay." She stands and clears her throat, trying to look composed. "I can make something, it's not a problem."

"Nah. You've done a ton already. Unless . . ." Lir looks up to see him giving her a teasing smile. "You don't  _ want _ to go to dinner with me."

"I don't understand." He cocks his head, reminding her of the large hound who'd slept in the gardens and kept the foxes away from the hens. "Doing something like that is considered a date, is it not? A romantic gesture? Why would you ask me to go with you if you have no interest in me?"

Dante pauses, his brows furrowed. "It can be, I guess. But it's also a friendly thing. Or you can think of it as a reward. Shop looks better than it has in years, you've made two of the best meals I've ever had. Why wouldn't I want to pay you back?"

"Taking care of you is its own reward," she replies.

"Lir . . ."

"No, I mean it!" She tucks her hair behind her ear. "You seemed happy, and that was nice. I  _ liked  _ making you happy. I just keep . . . messing that up, and I'm sorry."

Dante gives her a smile, then nudges her with his elbow. "Go clean up. Meet you at the front door in five."

He turns and heads into the washroom, his shouts over how clean it is making her giggle. Lir heads back to her room, using the guest bath to wash her face and hands before running a comb through her hair and changing her shirt into a short-sleeved blouse. After a brief debate she dusts some mascara on her eyelashes and applies a bit of lip balm before heading downstairs to meet him exactly five minutes later.

The sight of him renders her speechless. Breathless, too, if she feels like being a bit more cliche, but he looks so  _ good  _ and it's the first time she's really taken him in as a whole since she arrived. The dark denim of his trousers clings to his thick thighs and firm backside almost like a second skin, just loose enough to avoid being considered indecent, and she quickly lifts her eyes up to his chest when she notices the hinted bulge between his legs. But that's no better for her, as the button-down he's wearing shows off his broad shoulders and strong arms, and his hair is loosely gathered at the nape of his neck, highlighting his soft lips and straight nose.

Dante is, in a word,  _ devastating.  _

Her skin feels too tight and too hot when he grins at her. "You look nice," he says.

"Do I?"

Her voice comes out like a weird half-whisper, and he nods. "Yup. Like a normal person."

That isn't what she had expected, but he is sliding on his leather coat and pressing his hand to her back, leading her to the door. "Okay if we walk? It's only two blocks."

"Yeah, it's fine." Dante doesn't offer his arm and she doesn't ask, so they stroll together side by side. Lir takes the chance to look around, trying to familiarize herself with the buildings and streets. Everything seems so on top of everything else, and the paved sidewalks offer little greenery as she is used to seeing, but Lir smiles to herself as she takes it all in. The slower rural life never seemed to really suit her, and she enjoys the energy from the city around them as she follows Dante to the diner.

"You ever been to one of these?" he asks, breaking her from her thoughts. Lir shakes her head, and the smile that lights up his face only makes him more handsome. Her mouth goes dry as she studies his lips, wondering if they're anywhere near as supple as they look, how they'd feel on hers, on her throat, at her breast. "You'll love it. A waitress brings you a menu, and you pick what you want to eat. Cheap, delicious, and sure to fill you up."

_ Like you probably would,  _ she almost says, but merely nods, blushing furiously. "It sounds strange," she says. "Are the waitresses paid?"

"Yeah, but not a lot. But they get tips." He opens the door for them and leads them to a booth, taking opposite sides. It is only half filled, and Lir looks around curiously, watching the waitresses move between the tables. She can see into the kitchen in the back over the counter, and the place is filled with a rich mixture of delicious smells.

A woman comes over and hands them two large menus. "Look at you! Brought a girl this time, hm?" She winks at Dante who smiles back, and the waitress pinches his cheek. "Cutie. Want your usual?"

"You know it." He leans against the seat, slinging his arm over the top of it. "Cindy, this is Lir. She's staying with me for a few days. Lir, this is Cindy. I told you about her yesterday."

Lir nods, murmuring a polite greeting. The waitress, Cindy, is tall, with an hourglass figure that makes her a bit self-conscious. Of course all the women he knows would be gorgeous, she thinks, and the fact that she'd dressed up a bit makes her feel ridiculous now. "Hey, darling," Cindy greets her. "You need a minute to look over the menu?"

"Please," she replies softly.

"Sure thing! I'll get you some water. Just give me a shout whenever you're ready!" 

Cindy heads behind the counter and Lir, her appetite gone, studies the menu, looking for something light she can pick at so as to not offend Dante. Is this what it is to be jealous? Why is it bothering her  _ now,  _ and not before? She's debating between a Caesar and a garden salad when Dante clears his throat. "You alright?"

"Yes."

She hears him shift. "You sure?"

"Please," she whispers. "Please, don't ask me. I don't want to make a fool of myself."

"Uh . . . okay. What are you thinking?"

_ That this was a mistake, _ she thinks, but Lir clears her throat. "A salad."

"No way. Get a cheeseburger. They are the best here."

Lir glances over the top of the menu. His expression is charming, and she closes the menu and sets it down. "Okay. Cheeseburger it is."

He smiles at her a bit warily. Is he afraid that she's going to burst into tears in the middle of the diner? Cindy returns, and they order, and when their food arrives Lir can only stare, half in awe and half in horror, at the monstrous burger, mountain of fries, and giant sundae placed in front of Dante. He sets in on it, wolfing it down as she carefully works through her own plate; it's greasier than anything she's ever eaten before, cheese dripping from the patty, and the fries are crisp and salted.

It's  _ delicious. _

Dante pays when they've finished, stretching his arms over his head with a hearty belch that has her side-eyeing him. Then, with a playful farewell to Cindy and a hefty tip, he offers Lir his hand and helps her up, letting her go as they leave the diner. Being next to him now feels comfortable, if still uncertain, and they say very little on the walk back towards the Devil May Cry.

"I gotta ask you something," Dante says.

She looks up curiously. "Of course."

"You seemed, uh . . ." He rubs the back of his neck. "I don't know how to put this. Like you've never seen a burger before? I know you are from the boonies or whatever, but . . ." He gives her a side eye that has her blushing. "I mean you were impressed with that old computer in the shop and that thing is almost as old as I am!"

Despite the embarrassment from his assessment, Lir giggles. "I grew up . . . I guess sheltered is the right word. My family is part of a group that heads our community, and as the direct descendants of Ler, there was even more pressure, all eyes watching. As a daughter of the family, I was expected to wait for the son of Sparda." She chuckles at the look he gives her. "I know, it seems strange, doesn't it?"

Dante shrugs. "Doesn't sound too off from the Order in Fortuna. It's just odd to hear when people treat Sparda like he was some big deal."

Lir looks at him in shock. "Sparda  _ is _ a big deal! He delivered humanity from the demons! And now you carry on his work."

She smiles at him, but he looks unconvinced. "You're starting to remind me of Vergil."

"Vergil?" Lir struggles to recall where she's heard the name before. "That was your brother's name, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. He was obsessed with gaining our father's power and got a lot of people killed doin' it. Then he wound up serving Mundus until . . . Well, there probably wasn't much of him left by then." 

"I'm sorry," she murmurs.

Lir places a hand on his arm, rubbing it gently, and Dante shrugs. "Long time ago," he says. "It's just still funny to me to hear people making a big deal about Sparda. To me he was just . . . my dad, I guess."

She thinks of her own father, his warm smile and big bear hugs, the little gifts he would give them of candy and trinkets, the way he would sing loudly when he indulged too much and laugh at her mother's tutting. Could it be possible that the great knight Sparda, deliverer of humanity and savior of the world, drank too much and embarrassed his wife with his singing?

"Is there anything you want to do?" Dante asks, pulling her from her thoughts. "While you're staying in the city, I mean. Something you want to do tomorrow?"

"Could we . . ." Hesitating, she comes to a stop, and he turns after a few steps to give her a curious look. "Could we go to the aquarium? I read online that there's one not far from your home, and I . . . I'm sorry, it's a silly request."

Dante makes a noise that might be a cough. "Nah, nah, it's . . . Nothing wrong with wanting to see it. Sure. We can go."

"Really?" Lir claps her hands excitedly, then reaches out to take his arm. "I've always wanted to see one! I've only seen pictures."

Dante barks out a laugh as they cross the street, but he doesn't comment on Lir holding onto his arm. "You lived by the water and yet never saw a fish?"

"I've seen  _ fish. _ But not ocean creatures." She sighs and puts her head on his arm, thinking to herself as they walk. "Even if I do go back home, it'll be worth it to see some jellyfish."

"Would all that really happen to you?" he asks, his tone serious. "Taking your tongue or whatever?"

Lir straightens, suddenly aware of how close they are. She lets go of his arm but he moves closer, so they walk elbow to elbow. "I don't know, honestly," she says, laughing nervously. "I'm the first one to meet a son of Sparda. Not really a precedent."

"I see." He turns them down a corner, and then stops, leaving her to turn curiously. "What I don't see is where we are."

Lir looks around, frowning. "We're lost?"

"Not exactly. I thought we'd take the long way, but . . . oh wait! There's Front Street. Come on."

Dante drapes an arm over her shoulders, tucking her neatly to his side. The warmth of him makes her flush, as does the intimate nature of the act, but the blooming hope that maybe this means good things for them is crushed when he leans down to whisper into her hair, "On my mark, find a place to hide yourself. Something's been followin' us for the last couple of blocks, and it's gonna get messy."

"Demons?" 

"Probably," he agrees. He gives her a squeeze before releasing her, pushing her forward with a hand at her back. "Go." 

Lir takes two steps forward. Then she feels it, something dark and dangerous that pulls on her lungs and stomach before dousing her like a bucket of cold water. She turns, afraid to look but unable to stop, and watches as Dante reaches under his coat and pulls two revolvers out. Beyond him, in the shadows, emerges three creatures the likes of which she has never seen. They look like bugs: huge, overgrown bumblebees, with stingers on the end of their lumpy bodies and claws that reach outward.

"Go screw off," Dante says.

The click as he pulls the hammer makes Lir jump.  _ Run! _ she yells at herself, but before she can gunfire erupts. The flash from the barrel is bright on the dark street, the lampposts somehow out and bathing them in darkness. One of the creatures screams as it is hit, another advancing with a swipe that Dante ducks and avoids easily.

She stands frozen as she watches him fight, firing off shots that connect each time and leave the demons howling and spraying dark blood. It is a horrible sight, something out of a nightmare, but Dante seems almost unbothered. He seems to barely break a sweat as he delivers a kick to one, using the lid of a trash can to smash into another, and by the time he has eliminated all three, Lir's heart is pounding in excitement.

Dante flips the back of his coat up with a chuckle, replacing the guns before turning around. He catches sight of her gaping and frowns deeply. "Didn't I tell you to hide?" 

"You . . ." Her voice is too strangled to work properly, but there's so much she wants to say in that moment.  _ Thank you for protecting me, you really are the son of Sparda, where did you learn to fight, did you recognize them,  _ the list expands with every second that crawls by until, fed up with her own inability to speak, Lir darts forward and flings her arms around his waist, sending him stumbling a step.

He gives a curse as he catches her. Lir takes a few steadying breaths as the adrenaline pulses in her veins. "You were amazing," she breathes, looking up at his startled expression. "The way you handled them so easily! Your skill is incredible!"

"What? Nah." Dante eases her back, but Lir keeps hold of his jacket as he rubs his cheek sheepishly. "They were nothing."

"No! No, you were . . ." Her voice fades away as she looks at him almost dreamily. "Just like the great knight Sparda. You are a hope for humanity."

He opens his mouth. Closes it. It looks, to her, as though he is trying to figure out what to say, and her suspicions are confirmed when he clears his throat. "Look. I know you were raised to . . . Well, I don't know that you worshipped him, but to at least respect him, but you gotta . . . Can you relax with the hope for humanity stuff?"

"Oh." She lets her hands fall away. "Of course. I'm sorry, I guess I didn't realize that it was making you uncomfortable. I'll refrain from it from now on."

"I mean, this is the guy who I watched nearly set a house on fire trying to make burgers, y'know? He was never a  _ hero  _ to me." He scratches the back of his neck. "Just . . . strange. That's all."

Lir nods, and they stand there for a moment, not making eye contact. Finally she says, "You were very good though. Thank you for doing that."

"Yeah. It's my job, right?" Dante huffs out an awkward laugh before jerking his chin. "Come on, we're only a couple of blocks from home."

Home? Lir doesn't comment as she follows him, but she doesn't take his arm again either. They don't speak again until they are back at the Devil May Cry, and the two once again stand awkwardly in the foyer, Lir's eyes down as she watches him shuffle his feet.

It's Dante who breaks the silence with a sigh. "I keep saying the wrong things, huh?"

"What?" Her gaze snaps to his face.

"I keep forgetting that people out there only know about the legend. Makes sense that you'd say those things about him. I only meant . . ." Dante tilts his head back. "Ah, hell, I'm no good at this."

"Will you tell me about him?" Lir asks. "What he was really like?"

"Maybe tomorrow," Dante says. "It's getting late."

Lir nods, feeling more than a little disappointed. "You're right."

"We should be hearing from Lady tomorrow," he offers.

It should be good news, but it feels heavy. The sooner Lady confirms her story, the sooner Lir will have to move on. "Yeah," she replies. "I'll head upstairs then."

Dante doesn't say anything, so she turns and moves to the steps. "Goodnight," he calls to her when she reaches the bottom.

Lir turns around hopefully, but he's at his desk, back turned as he looks through the mail. "Goodnight," she murmurs back before heading up the steps.


	4. Chapter 4

It turns out to be another sleepless night for Dante. At first, he simply cannot get comfortable; blaming it on the humidity caused by a storm rolling in, he opens the windows and strips himself nude, and kicks the covers to the foot of the bed. Then comes the restlessness he knows all too well, the kind that can usually be solved with a nice little round of masturbation. Yet the second his hand touches his cock, the image of Lir comes to mind, and he releases it with a curse. He might be an asshole, but he's not  _ that  _ kind of asshole.

All of that serves to leave him irritable and more than a little wound up the next morning, and he spends a long time in the shower, trying to get himself under control. If he doesn't, he'll snap at her sooner or later, or worse, and she doesn't deserve that. Dante is careful not to drip too much water on the floors as he dries off, and then he dresses and heads down into the shop.

"—will be alright," he hears Lir say. Pausing, he leans over the railing, his brows going up at the sight of her sitting on the couch with a woman sobbing into a tissue. "Dante will be able to take care of it."

Her position lets him drink in her figure, the braid of her hair exposing the elegant sweep of her neck. He swallows thickly, listening to the conversation unfold. "Are you sure?" the woman sniffles.

"Yes. He's very good at this. I've seen it," Lir reassures her. "I know you must be feeling hopeless, but he can help you."

"Help with what?" he calls as he takes the stairs two at a time.

Lir stands and gestures him over. "You have a new client," she says, beaming with pride. 

Dante remembers the fuss she made over him killing the demons last night, and he clears his throat uncomfortably as he sits at his desk. "What's the situation?" he asks.

The woman sniffles as she describes what sounds like a very basic haunting: Demons have taken over her garage, nasty little devils that are eating the stray cats. "My poor babies," she sobs, blowing her nose. "I leave food out for all the neighborhood cats. I tried to keep them safe, but they've been devoured, one by one!"

"That must have been very upsetting," Lir says sympathetically.

She nods as Lir pats her shoulder. "Misty had a litter two days ago, and I know they'll be next. Please, you have to help me!"

Lir looks at him expectantly. It's obvious she wants him to say something comforting, but he frowns. "Why are you feeding all the vermin anyway?" he asks. "Stray cats are a nuisance."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows his mistake. Lir's eyes go wide as the woman leans forward and hisses viciously, "Listen, you, those are  _ God's creatures _ you're talking about, and those  _ evil, disgusting _ demons need to go straight back to hell where they belong!"

Dante holds up his hands to defend himself, but Lir quickly interrupts, "What Dante meant is that you should feed them elsewhere until he can take care of the demons for you. Didn't you, Dante?" she finishes, giving him a pointed look.

". . . Yeah." The woman deflates, her tears returning, and he feels a brief stab of irritation he tries to ignore. "It sounds easy enough. You and your . . ." Lir shakes her head subtly. "You and your  _ friends  _ should find a place to stay for a few days, until the job is done."

Watery eyes fix on his own. "You'll be careful, won't you? Those . . . those  _ things  _ have caused enough damage."

He does his best to hold in a sharp retort, though his voice is clipped when he replies, "I'll do what I can."

"Come on," Lir says gently, helping the woman to her feet. "Let me make you a cup of tea, and then we can work on getting your contact information, okay?"

She leads her away, Dante tracking the sway of her hips. It's only been two days since she arrived, bringing another mess for him to sort through, yet he's finding himself more and more adjusted to her presence, more at ease with having her around. And it helps that she's pretty to look at, even if that train of thought is likely to lead him to other, less polite ones. 

After Lir serves tea she produces a contract for her to sign, which the woman does as she rambles on about her cats. Dante tunes out Lir's polite questions after the felines to wonder how she had found them—hell, after Morrison had given him a stack of boilerplates years ago, he stuffed them in a drawer and forgot about them. Did she clean his desk too?

The woman leaves and Lir makes sure the door is firmly shut before bursting into giggles. "That was a strange one!" she remarks, walking over to his desk and handing him the contract. "Are all your cases so interesting?"

"Yeah. Hey, how did you do that?" he asks.

Lir blinks at him, her arm still extended, holding out the paper for him to take. "Do what?"

"That. With that client. She left . . ." Dante grasps for the word. "Happy?"

Her brows furrow, and he's filled with the sudden, ridiculous urge to kiss the indent between them to smooth it away. "Do your clients tend to leave unhappy?"

"Maybe. I dunno." He takes the contract from her and leans back in his chair to get a little more space before he does something she'll regret. "They certainly aren't saying thank you, or smiling."

"I . . . I was just nice to her. That's all." Lir tugs at the hem of her shirt, her fingers worrying the fabric. "I was taught how to be a good hostess, in case I ever needed to be, so I just . . . talked to her?"

"Talk to her," he muses, opening a drawer in the desk. "I'll have to try that some time.”

He looks down and frowns again, spying hanging file folders neatly labeled and lined in order. When did she have time to do all this?

"Are you hungry?" Lir asks. "I didn't get much done with the client here so early, but I did manage to bake some muffins and brew some fresh coffee."

"Come here," he says, pushing the drawer closed with his foot. She does as he's asked, stepping around the desk until she's next to him, and there's the same nervous energy from the other night, when he'd cornered her in the laundry room. Slowly, he stands, leaning down to study her face. "You sleep at all?"

"What? Yes, of course." She looks up at him, a faint rosy hue to her cheeks. "Why do you ask?"

"Just wonderin'. You got a lot done over the past few days."

Lir chuckles. "I've never been one to need a lot of sleep. Besides, I've been training my whole life to take care of a son of Sparda. And I . . . like it." The last part is almost a whisper, and she blushes and looks away. "You've been very kind to me, letting me stay here. It's the least I could do."

"Show me these muffins," he says, and Lir gives him another smile that leaves him a bit hot under the collar.

He is on his third when the phone rings back in the office. "I'll get it," Lir says, breezing out of the kitchen.

Her voice filters in with, "Devil May Cry, how can I help you?" as he looks over the remaining muffins, when Lir calls, "Dante! It's Lady!"

"Alright!" he calls back. Snagging a blueberry muffin and popping as much of it as he can into his mouth, he saunters back to his desk, swallowing as he grabs the receiver. "'Bout time you called."

"Yeah, yeah." Her voice is a bit crackly. "Almost thought I had the wrong shop for a minute. When'd you let her start answering calls?"

Dante glances over to Lir, who is carefully sweeping the rug by the door. "I don't let her do anything. She chooses to. I just don't stop her."

"Well, aren't you getting soft?" Lady laughs. Ignoring his sputtered protests, she continues, "I found her home. It's a town called Llyrlen, about three hours away from Fortuna by car. Pretty self-contained, too."

"Llyrlen, huh?"

"Yeah. Seems they take this god thing pretty seriously." She sighs. "But, from what I could gather, it's all true. Sparda and this Ler met and made a promise, and Lir, as the god's direct descendant and the only of her sisters eligible to marry, was sent to fulfill it."

He rubs his lips. "What happens if she doesn't?"

"From what I heard, exactly what she said. She'll be an outcast, stripped of everything and sent to work in the archives for the rest of her life. Kind of like a nun, only less pleasant."

"Okay." He glances at Lir, who watches him expectantly. Can he really let that happen? "Thanks for doing this. I'll see you when you get back."

"Yeah. Don't let Lir leave, okay? I'm going to make a quick stop but I'll be there in a few days. Then I'll help her figure out what to do."

Dante feels a bit of a burn in his throat at the implication that  _ he _ wouldn't bother doing the same. "Yeah. I won't. And, hey, listen, they didn't know you were there, right? Lir's family?"

"What do you take me for? I'm a professional."

With that the line goes dead, and he sighs as he hangs up the receiver. "What did she say?" Lir asks tightly.

Dante shrugs. "You were right. We're supposed to get married."

He waits for the accusatory response, but instead she looks at him, her eyes more hesitant than he'd like. "What do you want to do?" The question startles him; shouldn't he be asking her that? "Should I pack my things?"

"No! No, you're not goin' anywhere." He runs a hand through his hair, leaning heavily against his desk. "I don't think marriage is in the cards and, after you seein' what I'm really like, I'd be surprised if you still wanted to. But you can . . . Having you around is nice. If you want to stay, you can." 

Dante expects her to respond with her usual enthusiasm, but instead, she seems to deflate. "I can't impose on you like that."

"Sure you can," he says. "I don't mind."

Lir shakes her head. "It's not . . . you're the son of Sparda, and—"

"Would you lay off that son of Sparda stuff?" Dante snaps. 

"Well! It's the truth!" she fires back, taking him by surprise. "And I can't stay here if we're not married. It's not proper."

Her expression is furious, but Dante bursts into laughter. "Proper? Like marrying a stranger is proper?"

She folds her arms in a huff. "That's different."

"How?"

"Because it was . . . It was . . . It just is!"

"I'll pay you," he chuckles, trying not to focus on how  _ cute  _ she is when she's mad, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright, trying not to wonder if she'd look like that after he kissed her. It's not the time, it's not the place, and he's got no right to think those things about her. "You stay here, work the phones, greet clients, and I'll pay you in room and board."

"Forty percent," she says.

"What!" he exclaims. "No way. That's robbery."

Lir shrugs. "Fine. Thirty."

"Ten."

"Twenty-five."

Dante growls. "Twenty and I'll take you to the aquarium and the zoo."

"Deal!" She sticks her hand out with a grin. "See how good I am at negotiating?"

"Damn near ruthless," he agrees, clasping her fingers between his own. Yet he finds it harder than he'd like to let go; blaming it on whatever it is that's making him so horny, he forces himself to drop her hand. "Well, looks like we've got the rest of the day to ourselves. Anything you want to do?"

Lir taps her chin. "I need to see what I can cook for dinner tonight, but, before that, I'd like to finish cleaning upstairs. If that's okay?"

"Be my guest."

She smiles at him. "Okay. I'll make a fresh pot of coffee. Oh! And you need to start getting ready for that job, right?"

"Right. Cat lady." Lir gives him a look and he rolls his eyes. "Fine, fine. Sooner I get that done the better." He walks around his desk and grabs the guitar case, slinging it over his back. "You'll be okay for a few hours?"

"Yup!" she says. Then Lir smiles shyly. "You'll be safe, won't you?

That makes him pause. When was the last time anyone had been worried for  _ his  _ safety? Usually everyone assumed he would be fine, and he always was, but something about having her ask makes him feel warm in a way he doesn't quite understand. "Don't worry that pretty head too much. I doubt I'll need more than the girls to handle this." Seeing her confusion, he amends, "The guns."

"Oh! I see. Well, then. Hm." Dante waits to hear whatever it is she's trying to say, but what he's not expecting is for her to brace her hands on his shoulders and lean up to press the briefest of kisses to his cheek. "For luck."

His skin burns with her kiss, and Dante quickly spins, giving a weak salute as he heads out the door. Suddenly filled with way,  _ way _ too much energy, he decides to head to the job on foot, whistling to himself as he moves through the city.

* * *

Dante practically crawls back to the Devil May Cry, sighing with relief when he turns the knob of the front door. 

He winces, his fingers and hands covered in scratches that leave tracks all the way up his arms and over his chest. They don't hurt terribly bad, but the sheer amount of scrapes all combined cause him to ache every time he moves. The rest of him hadn't fared much better, his clothes splattered with now-dried blood, sweat and dirt making his cuts sting.

All he wants is a beer and a nap, maybe in that order. But the second he steps inside the shop and smells the cleaning products and fails to trip over some stuff on the floor, he remembers he's not alone anymore.

"Dante! You're back!" Lir calls excitedly over from the couch. He turns around and gingerly takes off his coat, hanging it on the door as her voice gets closer. "I was starting to worry. I didn't make anything but I can heat up—oh my goodness! You're hurt!"

Her hands are on his arms, pushing up his sleeves as she chews on her lip. "Nah, I'm fine," he says.

Lir gives him a sharp look, making him feel scolded. "What happened?" she demands.

"Those damn cats," Dante growls. "The demons were no problem, but the cats didn't like me much."

"Oh," she breathes. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think to . . . Of course they'd be aggressive towards you. Cats can sense demons, and one was attacking them. Sit here." She tugs him to the couch, and he allows her to guide him, sinking onto the cushions with a sigh. "I'll be right back. I think I saw a first aid kit in the bathroom."

Dante waits until she's gone to lean his head back, and it isn't long until he's dozing. The sensation of cool hands against his skin rouses him a bit. He cracks open his eyes to find Lir kneeling between his legs, her hair tucked behind her ears as she carefully dabs antiseptic over his scrapes, a bottle of beer sitting next to her on the floor. He lifts a hand to graze his fingers over her cheek, and her eyes flick to his face, a soft smile curling her lips.

"I didn't mean to wake you," she says quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore," he chuckles. "But I'm good."

Lir gives him a shy smile. Then she shifts to lean over him, brushing his hair back so she can swab his forehead. "These don't look too bad, you know. They'll be healed in a few days."

"Sooner than that," he murmurs.

Dante can feel his healing working already, but some part of him wishes it wouldn't, so she can still keep working on him. Lir searches his face before going back to checking his arms, and he uses the opportunity to just gaze at her.

It's not the first time he's studied her, but it  _ is  _ the first that he's been this close while doing it. Her brows and lashes are darker than her hair, an ashy gray, and they almost seem to glow with the pale amber of her eyes. There are no freckles or other markings on her creamy skin, though a faint scar tracks along her temple, and, with her straight nose and full lips, she's gorgeous. Dante brushes a few strands of hair from her face, his heart thudding uncomfortably when she leans into the touch after a second's hesitation.

When she looks up again, they are close, close enough that he can feel her breath fan on his lips. His own part and her eyes dart down, and Dante feels his heart thudding as her mouth curves up into a smile. "I think you're going to live," she murmurs.

"Lucky me," he replies.

Lir licks her lips. The gesture makes something inside him tighten, but then she eases away, leaning over to clean up her supplies. "I was thinking of doing a delivery order," she says, her back to him. "Now that I'm staying I can get more groceries in. There are also some items that I can use to make different oils and potions you can use."

"Potions?" murmurs Dante, his eyes sliding along her spine.

She peeks at him over her shoulder with a grin. "Yeah. Like for when you come back from fighting some stray cats covered in cuts and bruises?"

"As long as you're the one putting it on me." She stiffens for a moment before laughing quietly, and he decides that he likes the sound of it almost as much as he does the sound of her talking to him. "You know, I gotta ask. Pretty girl, good head on her shoulders, and her family sends her off to marry someone she's never met? How'd you wind up with this gig?"

Lir hums, latching the kit. "I have three older sisters. One of them is married, and the other two are betrothed. I was next in line. That's all."

"Three sisters?"

_ "Older  _ sisters," she corrects. "There's a younger one, as well."

"That's a . . . lot." He chuckles, the sound cutting off when she stands.

Lir shrugs. "I guess they figured they needed enough daughters in case one of you showed up."

"And what if I didn't?" Dante puts his arms up on the back of the couch, the soreness already faded. "How did you even find me?"

"Fortuna," she answers. "Kind of hard not to notice you."

Dante huffs a laugh as he shakes his head. "Yeah, that was a fuck-up in every way. But suppose I hadn't been there. We wouldn't have ever met."

It isn't a question so much as a realization, and he ends up frowning as she nods in agreement. "I probably would have been married off. If my sisters and I did not marry the son of Sparda, then we would be tasked with creating the next generation of brides."

She offers him a smile before carrying the first aid kit away, her steps soft on the steps. Dante scratches his head, thinking on what she told him. Honestly, it was creepy as hell.

"The next generation of brides," he mumbles. "What the hell did you do, you old bastard?"

Not wanting to get anywhere close to that conversation topic again—at least, not now—he grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns on the television, flicking through until he finds Netflix. Patty had set it up for him and given him one of the slots on her account, but he's never really used it; but maybe there will be something Lir will like. Though why that matters, he doesn't know.

She comes back as he's scrolling through different horror movies, and he hears her gasp and looks up to find her covering her mouth with her hand. "What . . . What is that?"

"This? It's . . . Oh. Shit, I'm sorry." Cursing, he flicks back up to something far less gory. "It's called Netflix. All sorts of movies and shows to watch. Thought you might want to pick something for tonight, if you're up to it?"

Lir plops down on the couch next to him, one leg tucked under her, but he notes how she still sits very straight, as if it is practiced. "I don't know," she says very matter-of-factly, turning to look at him. "What kind of entertainment do you like?"

"Uh . . . I guess action? Or maybe a scary movie?"

She shakes her head. "Nothing scary, please. But action would be okay."

Dante nods and scrolls to the right screen. He chooses a movie about aliens invading, the world sending its best fighters to fight, the hero's girl trapped and needing rescuing. Lir had brought him back a plate with some reheated lasagna, which he tucks into as she relaxes just a bit, her eyes on the screen.

But his eyes drift to her again and again, gauging her reactions. At first he tells himself because he wants to see if it's too intense, or if she understood a joke, but eventually he realizes because he just likes  _ watching _ her. It's almost like reliving it through her, and when she shouts at a lame jumpscare he chuckles. Lir leans in towards him a bit, her eyes glued to the screen, and Dante decides to experiment, pretending to yawn as he reaches his arm up and around her back.

She looks at him, a mixture of concern and confusion playing across her features. "Am I crowding you?" she whispers. "I'm sorry, I'll move."

"No, no, I thought . . ." He yanks his arm back and places it next to him. "Nevermind."

Lir gives him a curious look before turning back to the television. Dante clears his throat, shifting a bit, but now way too distracted by his crash and burn.

It occurs to him briefly that Lir might not know he is trying to flirt a bit, so he decides to take a more direct approach. "Hey, Lir," he murmurs, tilting his head towards her. "Did you know—"

"Sh," she hisses, her eyes glued to the screen.

He sinks back into his seat, steadfastly keeping his own gaze focused on the movie. This no longer seems like a good idea; between her semi-ignorance of the things outside of her home and his inner turmoil growing the longer she's around, being on this couch with her is probably the worst way to be, and it's all made worse by the dull, insistent ache in his groin. Not that it's  _ her  _ fault. Well, maybe it is. Lir readjusts next to him, and her thigh feels like a brand when it brushes his own. 

What he needs is a magazine, a bit of lotion, and a bit of time to himself.

"This is really fun!" Lir exclaims, flashing him a grin.

"Yeah," Dante sighs, stretching his legs out and propping them up on the table. "It's swell."


	5. Chapter 5

Lir sits at Dante's desk, gazing at him. He is stretched out on the couch, his feet crossed on the arm and his eyes closed, snoozing away. She is supposed to be organizing the bills and writing checks, but his soft snores caught her attention, and now she can't stop staring at him.

Watching Dante has been something she often catches herself doing. It's been over a week since she arrived at the Devil May Cry, and every day brings something new she never saw before: a new television show, a new joke of his, a new case that piques her interest. But none of it as interesting as the son of Sparda himself, who has turned out to be an intriguing mixture of strength and determination wrapped up in a layer of an simplicity she hadn't expected.

Even now, napping on the couch, he's a conundrum of contradictions. His outfit, an odd blend of red and black leather, was quite obviously chosen with care, yet his face holds a day's growth of stubble, and his sprawl is haphazard; he looks like he puts effort into his appearance, like he doesn't, like he's comfortable, like he's going to fall to floor at any second. It's a far cry from what she was raised to expect, to be certain. There is no cold, elegant warrior here. Just a man, or a little more than, content in his little corner.

Despite her doubts, the truth of him is far more comforting than the myth she was led to believe.

Lir ducks her head, feeling a bit silly now. Even a legendary knight and the son of humanity's hope is still a man, isn't he? It seems foolish now to know she never once considered he would be a normal guy, but it makes a lot more sense than a mysterious figure whose life was fighting and justice.

Of course, Dante _is_ a fighter; that was made clear enough first hand. He's had two jobs since the cat incident, both dispatched with ease. As for justice . . . well, he has a good heart, good enough to take a stranger in, anyway.

In the end, Lir is glad that Dante isn't what she had expected. It's much more interesting this way certainly. She is even having fun, something that also had never occurred to her to even expect in their union. Fun and flirting and enjoying one another's company is something that might come later, after years of marriage; love at first sight and romance lived in novels and Hollywood movies, not reality. Yet being with Dante had Lir questioning everything.

"Yer starin' a hole in me," Dante mumbles from the couch. His voice is heavy and thick with sleep, and he rubs at his face before yawning so widely that his jaw pops. "Somethin' wrong?"

"No, I'm sorry. I was woolgathering, I think." Lir stands with a smile and heads into the kitchen, where she sets to making him a cup of coffee from the pot she'd only just brewed. He takes it from her with a grumbled thanks when she carries it to him, and the sight of him with mussed hair and drowsy eyes is so strangely adorable that it makes her heart pound. "It's strange for you to have a day off, isn't it?"

Dante swallows a large mouthful of coffee before he replies. "Mm, nah. Sometimes I get handyman jobs—that's how the shop is listed in the phonebook—but I rarely take 'em unless the pay is good. So it's a lot of this, unless Morrison or Lady drop by."

Lir nods, continuing to watch him. Her chest tightens a bit when her thoughts land on how _handsome_ he is; if this marriage had worked out, that is one thing that would not have been an issue. Lir had tried not to have any expectations, particularly since the paintings of Sparda in the old books had him with long, curved horns and spikes on his hands. She moves to sit back down at the desk, her eyes drinking him in. Never had she pictured his son with soft silver hair, tall and broad and muscled, strong jaw and lips the perfect shape to kiss—

"Where'd you go?" Dante laughs, and Lir misses the desk chair and lands on her backside on the floor.

He's on his feet in an instant, coming over to help her to her feet. "Shit, you okay?"

"Yes." Embarrassment colors her cheeks scarlet. "I don't know what's wrong with me today."

"Might be something in the air," he says. His hand is warm and solid against her own, and she clasps it gently, marveling at how much larger than hers it is. "Can't seem to wake up, myself."

"Well, luckily, we ca—"

The door to the shop swings open, admitting Lady inside, and she eyes the two of them with what Lir assumes to be amusement. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all," Lir laughs as Dante pulls her to her feet. "Just clumsy."

"You're back sooner than I expected." Dante lets go of her hand and turns, folding his arms. "Don't you know how to call first?"

"No time. I told you, I was running an errand. A mutual friend needed a ride back to Red Grave." She gestures behind her and Lir looks up to see a gentleman walk in, his suit almost as sharp as the little gleam in his eye. 

Before she can ask, Dante groans. "Unless you have some money I don't want to hear it."

"Nonsense," he says. "I got wind of your predicament and I just had to come see for myself." Lady smirks as he crosses the shop, and Lir sees Dante roll his eyes a moment before he takes her hand, holding it up to press his lips to the back of her fingers. "You must be Lir. Lady told me all about you."

"I'm afraid you've got me at a disadvantage, sir," Lir says, falling naturally into the role of demure hostess, "as you know my name, but I don't have the pleasure of knowing yours."

"The pleasure is all mine. It's been a long time since I've seen true beauty, and you, my dear, are a sight for sore eyes." The man smiles at her, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. "Name's Morrison. I act as Dante's broker, bringing him jobs that I think suit him." With a wink, he adds, "He starts giving you trouble, you let me know, and I'll set him straight."

Lir glances at Dante with a giggle, but he looks unamused. "Thank you," she says, smoothing out her smile as she delicately retrieves her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

"So what do you want?" Dante sighs.

"Call it curiosity," he says. "I was out of town and Lady offered to give me a lift home, seeing she would be in the area. Naturally I accepted, and when she told me about her latest job I had to come and see for myself."

Morrison turns back to Lir with a wink. "The daughter of Ler, this is an honor. I'm somewhat familiar with your family, and of course I've heard the story of how your people helped the legendary knight Sparda."

"You have?" both Lir and Dante ask at the same time.

"Sure." He reaches into his coat, drawing a cigar from a pocket along with a trimmer. "The gods are mostly forgotten now. Humanity moved on, and only a couple of the old ones managed to hold on. Ler is one of 'em. Back when Sparda was separating the worlds, he needed a priestess, and Ler sent one of his along . . ."

"I was always told it was a relic," Lir replies with a frown.

"That too. In fact . . ." Morrison tilts his head towards Dante. "That pendant you gave Trish came from Ler's temple."

Dante sucks in a sharp breath as Morrison casually moves to the sofa, sitting and crossing one leg over the other. Lady leans against the pool table and watches as he puts his hands on his hips. "How do you know?"

"She showed it to me. There's some patterns on the side that look just like their buildings." He nods at Lir, who jumps. "Don't know how Sparda got his hand on those amulets though. Care to enlighten us?"

Three sets of eyes fall on Lir, who blushes and shakes her head. "I don't know what he's talking about."

"Ah well. Mystery is long over anyway. Two thousand years has a way of muddying the truth." He chews on his cigar a moment thoughtfully. "Surprised to hear about this oath though. From what I understand Ler and Sparda didn't see eye to eye."

"No, they were great friends," Lir interrupts, stepping around the desk. "At least, they respected one another very much."

"Not what I heard," Morrison chuckles. "Sparda lost too much money playing dice to him for them to be that good of friends."

"Really?" Confusion swirls within her, along with a faint, barely noticeable tinge of discomfort. Was everything her family told her wrong? Could they really have forgotten so many truths? 

It must show in her voice, or on her face, because Morrison exhales a slow cloud of smoke. "I wouldn't worry too much about it. It could be both, or neither. The only ones who would know for sure are Sparda and Ler, and neither of them are talking."

". . . Yes, I suppose."

"Anyway," Lady interjects, "the fact of the matter is that you're stuck with her, Dante. I can't move her now that she's here, or the cult might find out that the two of you aren't honoring the promise. So, Lir, you're gonna have to stay here until we figure out what to do."

She nods as she leans against the desk, listening to Lady tease Dante about being a terrible gambler ("like father like son," she laughs), but not processing anything. It's just like Dante himself: she had expected one thing, and found another. Ler himself might not be at all what they know, but the idea leaves her feeling shaky.

"Hey," Dante says, his hand heavy on her shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yes!" Lir says quickly. "Are you both staying for dinner? We'd love to have you."

Lady laughs and waves her hand. "I can't stay. I have work tonight." She nods towards Morrison. "You coming?"

"I think I'll take the lady up on her offer," Morrison smiles. He takes a drag from his cigar and nods at Lir. "I want to hear more about her people."

Lir ducks her head, wondering what would have happened if Dante were more like Morrison, deciding that she likes him just as he is. Then she flushes, a rather odd trend that's started whenever she's around or thinks about the devil hunter. "Dante, would you mind entertaining our guest while I get started on dinner? I'll be out with drinks in a moment."

His eyes are assessing on her face. "Don't worry about the drinks. I got 'em."

"Nonsense!" She pats his arm. "I can take care of it. Besides, you said that Morrison often brings you work, didn't you? I'll leave the two of you to discuss business."

Lady huffs a laugh, drawing an uneasy look from Lir. "Careful you don't spoil him too much," she chides. "Dante is insufferable enough as it is."

Lir feels a strange urge to defend him, but Dante interrupts. "Get going. And you didn't let Lir's family know what was up, did you?"

"Of course not!" Lady gives a wave as she saunters through the shop. "I told you, I'm a professional!"

Lir turns and heads towards the kitchen, but to her surprise, Dante is right behind her. "You okay?" he asks with a frown as she opens the refrigerator. "First you fall over, then you're offering dinner? You don't have to do this, it's just Morrison."

She considers the options within and his question with equal care. "I'm fine, I think. All of this has just been . . . a bit of a shock, if I'm allowed to be honest. It's like . . . like my family was so disconnected from the world that they forgot how things really were. Or are. I don't know."

"Lir . . ."

"I mean, it was one thing when it was just you they were wrong about, because they never met you. But to be wrong about Ler, or his relationship with Sparda, it . . . it means they're probably wrong about everything else, too. What if there never was a promise? Or they wrote it down wrong?" She pulls out a thing of ham, deciding that a roast will do nicely. "What if they sent me here and I've been in your way for nothing?"

"You're not in my—"

"The worst part is, they don't even know that they're wrong!" she continues, rifling through the pots and pans. "Our entire community is built on providing a bride for the damn son of Sparda, and if Sparda didn't even _want_ that, if there was no agreement, then what have we even been doing for two thousand years? Sitting around on the sea looking like idiots! We'd be no worse than the Order who thought they could raise him from the dead. I mean, I didn't get to do _anything_ because I had to prepare myself for this thing, and it's not even—"

"Hey." She blinks up in surprise when Dante grabs her arm. Then very suddenly he pulls her into a hug, suffocating her slightly as he crushes her to his chest. "Slow down," he chuckles, patting the back of her head.

Despite the lack of oxygen, it does feel good in his arms, and Lir allows herself a moment to enjoy the feeling of his broad chest and arms. But then she eases back, looking up as she wipes at her nose. "Sorry," she mumbles.

He gives her a crooked smile. "We can't know anything. So don't get all worked up. We just need to figure out today." Lir smiles at that sentiment and he nods. "Now, I'll cook dinner. You go talk to Morrison since you actually want to know this stuff."

"But—"

"No buts." He swats her rear end, making her squeak, before pushing her out the kitchen door. "I got this," he laughs, and Lir finds herself back in the office, Morrison grinning in her direction.

Belatedly, she realizes that she has no idea if Dante even knows _how_ to make anything more complicated than a sandwich, but one of them needs to sit with Morrison and Dante has made it clear that he wants her to do it. Lifting her chin slightly, Lir crosses to the couch across from Morrison and settles delicately on it, crossing her legs at the ankle and resting her hands in her lap. "How long have you known Dante?" she asks.

"'Bout ten years. I met him shortly after he opened shop and gave him a bit of a loan to help him along. He's still working on paying it back." Morrison chuckles. "That's long enough to notice how much he likes having you around."

"You must be very good friends."

"Something like that." Morrison looks around the shop. "Probably something more like what Ler and Sparda had. A relationship out of necessity."

Lir swallows nervously. "In our community, we believe they had a close relationship built on mutual trust and respect."

Morrison chuckles. "Oh, I'm sure the two old ones respected each other well enough. My curiosity isn't to be invasive, but to understand." He leans forward and studies her closely. "See, from what I've been told, Ler's magic was used to maintain the seal on the oceans, so the demons couldn't come slithering out of all those unexplored deep parts. Considering the planet is eighty percent water, that is a pretty big task." Then he nods at her knowingly. "Your oath here was a part of that. Payment for the spell."

Lir shifts nervously. That is similar enough to what she had learned, with a marked difference. "It isn't a payment," she murmurs. "It is a . . . an agreement between friends."

"Is it now?" He leans back as if thinking deeply, tapping one finger on his lips. "All that magic must have cost Ler a great deal. Maybe even took his immortality. And he just gave it away for nothing?"

"I . . ." Her gaze drops to her lap. "We are taught from birth of the legends of Sparda, and of Ler. Millennia ago, when Sparda sought to permanently divide the human world from the demon world, he came to Ler, as they were friends and he knew that Ler was wise in the ways of magics. Ler agreed to aid him and Sparda, as a show of faith, promised to marry his firstborn son to one of Ler's daughters."

"So," he says mildly, "two different stories, two different versions of how it all played out. In my experience, when something like that happens, the truth is somewhere in the middle."

"In the middle?" she murmurs.

Morrison nods. "In the end, though, it probably doesn't matter why. Whether Sparda asked him for a favor or Ler offered, hell, Sparda might have threatened him over it, stole the magic, who knows. Doesn't matter if they were friends or enemies or just drinking buddies."

He points at her as she considers this. "What does matter is this oath of yours. That's serious business. And if it is true, and the ocean seal is caught up in this power, then we need to know. It would be a devil of a time if you two didn't get married, and suddenly demons started walking out of the ocean."

Lir glances at the kitchen, where she can faintly hear Dante singing wildly off-key, and then she lowers her voice. "It's not that I don't _want_ to marry him," she admits. "In the time that I've been here, he's proven to be a far better man than I ever dared to hope he would be. He treats me kindly, and I've learned so much since coming here, and he never asks me to do anything that I don't want to do."

"But?" Morrison prompts.

"But I . . . I don't think it's what he wants. That _I'm_ what he wants. And it doesn't feel _right_ to me, anymore, to try and force him into it because it's expected. There's also . . ." Her cheeks burn, but Lir forces her voice to remain steady. "Well, I think I _could_ love him, and I didn't expect that, either."

"Is that so?"

Lir's eyes open wide as she realizes what she just said. "No! No, I mean . . ." She holds her palms up frantically, "I didn't mean that! I've only known him a week, we're friends. It's silly, I spoke out of turn."

Morrison chuckles, leaning over to pat her knee. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." He winks, but Lir is filled with shame, looking down at her hands twisting in her lap.

A moment goes by during which she takes a deep breath. She glances towards the kitchen, wondering what would happen if Dante had heard that—if her _parents_ had heard her say something like that.

"In the meantime," Morrison sighs, chewing on his cigar, "there is this question of the oath. It would be a bad idea to just wait around and _see_ if the seal breaks, although I don't see any alternative."

"What if we . . ." Her heart pounds in her chest. "If we did the ceremony, it would count, right? We wouldn't have to actually get married, or anything like that?"

Morrison chuckles. "Maybe. You would know more about this stuff than I do."

Lir frowns, her mind wheeling, when the fire alarm goes off. They both jump up at the high pitched beeping as Dante bursts through the kitchen door. "Everything's fine!" he hollers. He pulls one of his revolvers out and aims for the smoke detector, shooting it from the wall, and it lands on the floor, smashing into pieces.

She gapes at him in the sudden silence. "We're ordering pizza," Dante says.

* * *

Morrison leaves before the pizza arrives, citing heartburn, offering his apologies for not having more information to give. Lir and Dante eat in relative silence; she watches him scowl as he picks the olives from his silences, thinking of how wrong her family has been about everything so far. What other lies have they taught her, so caught up in tradition that they never thought to question any of them?

Setting her half-eaten slice on her plate, Lir works up the courage to ask, "I know that it's . . . a sore topic for you, but would you mind telling me what you remember of Sparda?"

"What for?" He doesn't look up, and that worries her.

"Because I . . . I want to know the truth."

Dante snorts. "Who cares about the truth?"

"I do!" she insists. "When I came here I knew what I had to do: marry the son of Sparda, be a good and obedient wife, and give him children to continue the line."

He almost chokes. "What?"

"But now it's all—it's all shit!" She clenches her hands furiously, tearing her paper napkin. "Sparda didn't tell you anything. So either he forgot, or it wasn't important. But what if it's not even real? What if Ler didn't give him the power? What if everything I've ever known is a complete and total lie?"

She looks at him with eyes that are bright with frustration, and Dante takes a thoughtful bite. "That sucks."

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" she snaps.

He says nothing for quite a while, working steadily through his pizza, taking measured drinks from the beer at his elbow. Finally, when her irritation has begun to simmer into mortification for saying so much, and none of it pleasant, he leans back in his chair. "He was a jackass. Nice when he wanted to be, but I don't think he ever really knew what to do around children, even his own. So, my mother took care of us. He was usually off doin' something or other. Sometimes we wouldn't see him for weeks."

"I see . . ."

"Had a strange sense of humor, thought swords were good gifts for toddlers. That's the kind of guy he was, as far as I know." Dante looks at her steadily. "But he disappeared when I was six. Went off and got himself killed. A year later, the demons came, killed my mother, and Vergil disappeared. And every time he's come up since, it's been some mess of his that I've had to clean up."

Lir flushes, regretting having asked. She bows her head and whispers, "I'm sorry."

There is a moment, and then Dante says, "He made good brownies. Not sure how, but they were extra chocolate-y. He taught me and Vergil how to arm wrestle. Came in handy when I was living on the street, I could hustle some money for food." She peeks up at him, relieved to see him smiling. "He had a laugh that sounded like a goose dying. Mother would put the radio on and Vergil would dance and it would make him laugh."

"He sounds . . . human," she murmurs, more to herself than anything.

Dante shrugs. "He lived here for a long time before he and my mother met. Locals probably rubbed off on him. But all that Legendary Dark Knight stuff? That wasn't him, not as I knew him. He was old by the time I was born, even for a demon, and he lost a lot of his power when the gates were sealed."

Lir nods, and Dante leans in to lift another piece of pizza. "Not what you wanted to hear, huh?"

"Actually . . ." Lir picks an olive off of the pizza and pops it into her mouth before making a face. "Ugh, you're right, these are awful."

"Told ya."

She chuckles, and they exchange smiles. "I'm not disappointed," Lir murmurs. "It actually sounds nice. I think I like human Sparda better than the legendary stuff anyway."

"Oh?" He cocks a brow, but the expression has lost the taunting edge it held when she first arrived.

"Mm." Tucking her legs beneath her, she yawns. "Just like I like the real you more than the Legendary Devil Hunter."

Lir leans her elbow on the back of the couch, propping her cheek on her hand and smiling. "Real me, huh?" Dante chuckles.

He sits back as well, the two of them gazing at one another, and Lir is struck by how comfortable she is with him. There are no expectations, no rules, no one there to tell her what to do. Instead she sets her own schedule, does what she wants, and the only standards she has to meet is her own. And Dante . . . in just a short time he has made her feel at home. "Real you," she murmurs.

Dante chuckles, his voice deep, and it makes her breath catch in her throat. "How do you know the real me, hm?" he teases.

"I just do," she answers. "I know I haven't been here long, and maybe it's out of place for me to say, but I'm . . . I'm really glad that I met you, Dante."

His eyes on her keep her pinned, and before she realizes it, she leans towards him. Her gaze falls to his lips, and Lir wonders what it would be like to kiss him, wonders what would have happened if he accepted her offer right away and married her that night. Something tightens deep inside and a small part of her wishes he had, despite the freedom she has now.

"You're not so bad either," he says, leaning in too.

The air between them is charged, and she feels a shiver up the back of her neck. But Dante doesn't move any closer, just keeps gazing at her with those intense eyes, and as the moment stretches on, Lir starts to doubt. They get along, and he's said he likes having her there . . . so why didn't he take her offer? Why hasn't he tried since?

 _Maybe he wants something more,_ she thinks, but that is ridiculous. More, what more? Romance isn't really a thing, at least not that she's ever seen outside of books and movies. Sure, they have a connection, and he is sweet and handsome and she is dying to taste his lips. But that can't mean anything . . . and even if it does, it doesn't mean he feels the same.

Suddenly embarrassed, she eases back and looks away. "That's kind of you," Lir murmurs.

"Yeah."

He is still staring at her, but now his brow is creased, as if confused. All it does is make him look more handsome, and make her want to reach out and brush her fingertips on the crease and slide closer, so she stands, gathering up their plates. "I'll take care of this," she says, escaping to the kitchen, and once there she splashes water on her face, telling herself to get a grip.


	6. Chapter 6

Dante stares at his reflection in the mirror of his bathroom. There are dark circles under his eyes, his hair hanging in strands around his face. Three days' worth of stubble covers his jaw, and although he knows he should get himself together and make himself presentable, his stubborn streak makes him defiant. Because  _ she _ will like it, and he's tired of it.

Not that he's tired of Lir: it's been a few weeks since she arrived in his shop, and to be frank, she has made a vast improvement on his life. Not just the cooking and cleaning and calling the plumber when the sink broke, but in other ways he can't describe. He finds himself working harder, acting better. He spends less time sleeping and more time getting jobs, stopped eating crap and drinking Jack and being wasteful.

It's terrible, and he hates it. When has Dante Sparda ever needed to take care of himself? Survive, sure. Food to eat and a roof over his head and a sweet ass bike was all he ever needed. Fuck, even  _ that _ is better, because he suddenly can afford the good gas to put it in and she's been purring like a dream every time he goes for a ride.

He stares at himself and curses. "She ain't worth this," he mutters. A damned lie, but if you can't lie to yourself, then who can you lie to, right?

She has made him better in every way except one. Dante hasn't slept a full night since she's arrived. He spends his nights tossing and turning, thinking about her down the hall, picturing her hair and her smile and the way she wears a t-shirt cinched at the waist and god  _ damn _ he has it bad. Except he doesn't, because he refuses to, because Lir is way too young and way too naive and way out of his league.

"Fuck," he curses. 

Which brings Dante to his newest problem: he hasn't gotten his rocks off since she's been living at the Devil May Cry. It just never felt right, because as soon as he'd grab the snake she'd surface in his mind's eye, and he'd hear her tell him again that she was trained in the art of pleasure. What the hell did that even mean? He had no idea, but what he  _ does _ know is he is about to burst. So, in an act of defiance, he grabs the bottle of lotion he didn't know he owned that sits on the side of the sink, tosses away the towel from his shower, and opens the cabinet under the sink where he has some dirty magazines hidden.

He places the first magazine he can grab on the edge of the sink, balancing it on one thigh as he finds a good picture. There, Miss June, her flirty cowgirl boots just what the doctor ordered. He holds the book open with one hand as the other pumps some lotion. But it's clogged, so he leans his elbow on the book, hooks the bottle under his arm, and uses his chin to press the top, letting a glob out and into his palm.

He lets it warm for a second, and that proves to be a mistake. Because, while he's standing there with his dick half-hard and Miss June's legs spread just enough to glimpse the curls between her thighs, the door that in his infinite wisdom he hadn't locked starts to open. There's a split second where he considers shoving back against it, but her shoulder is already between it and the jamb and he knows he'll hurt her.

So, he does the second best thing. With a strangled yelp, he whirls around, tripping over his towel and nearly going headfirst into the tub. There's a squeak from Lir, whether surprise at seeing him on the other side or surprise at seeing his bare ass or both he doesn't know, a muffled thud, and then the door slams shut. Dante pushes himself away from the wall he'd fallen against, listening for her, trying to gauge what she's doing, and his gaze falls on the lotion and magazine. Shit, if she caught a glimpse of either of those, then she's gonna have exactly zero doubts about what he was up to, and that makes his neck heat in a way he's unfamiliar with.

"Um . . ." Her voice, muffled by the door. "Do you . . . Uh." She clears her throat. "I can . . . I'm going to make some coffee."

"Hey, Lir, just—!" He takes a step, but the towel is still wrapped around his foot, and he goes down, his hand scrabbling for anything to stop himself. Dante ends up grabbing the shower curtain and pulling it down with him, the rings popping off and bouncing off the tile as he crashes to the floor, the curtain falling on top and the rod smacking him in the back before rolling away.

"Dante?" The doorknob turns, but she doesn't open it. "Are you okay? I heard a crash."

"Yeah, uh . . . just don't open the door. One minute." With a groan he climbs up, grabbing the towel to wrap around his waist, and once the important bits are covered he steps over the mess and opens the door.

At the last second he spies the magazine, still open to Miss June in the sink, and he grabs it and puts it behind his back. Lir looks up at him in shock, and he uses his free arm to lean on the side of the door jamb, trying to look casual. "What's up?" he grins.

"Towels," she stammers, and the sight of the red that colors her cheeks is the  _ last  _ thing he needs right now, which is why it makes no sense that he enjoys it. "Towels! I came in to bring the towels from the laundry. I didn't realize you were in here. I had music playing downstairs on the jukebox, so I didn't hear the water running, and, um . . ."

"Hey, it's all good. I was just finishin' up."  _ Or trying to,  _ he thinks. 

She doesn't look convinced in the slightest. "Are you sure? I can put them away later, or . . ." Her eyes shift to the sink as she trails off, and he remembers the lotion balanced on the edge, and something in them flickers as they return shyly to him. "Do you need help?"

"Not the kind you can give," he says.

"What?"

"No, nothing." He straightens up, still holding the magazine behind his back. "Just tripped is all. Might need a new shower curtain though."

Lir peers around him, her brows rising. "Did you hurt yourself?"

_ I'm hurting, alright. _ "Nah." He steps aside and nods towards the counter. "Just put the towels there, I'll get them in the cabinet."

She squeezes around him, stepping over the shower curtain. After putting down the toilet lid she stacks the towels on top before turning around and grabbing the curtain rod. "Let me see if I can get this up so you don't trip again," she chuckles.

Dante uses the moment to toss the magazine into his bedroom, aiming it so it sails behind his bureau. With that taken care of, he turns back, groaning internally to see her on her hands and knees, hips up and facing him as she crawls around, collecting the curtain rings that had snapped.

"You know," she says, reaching out to grab one that rolled behind the toilet, and his mouth goes painfully dry, "my youngest sister, Ilya, snapped our curtain rings once, and my father used unbent paperclips until he could purchase new ones. And I'm pretty sure I saw a box of paperclips downstairs on your desk."

"Uh-huh." Her shirt slips down the arch of her back, revealing the smooth skin beneath. Dante knows he should stop staring, and yet . . . "Paperclips. Right."

"It'll at least get you through a few days until I can order you some." Lir kneels back on her legs, counting the rings in her hand, and Dante bites his lip. She even kneels straight, like how she sits, one of the hundred little things he's noticed about her over the days and days spent together, and it's freaking adorable. And he hates it.

She glances over her shoulder. "Okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Uh . . . why don't you go find them? Then I can get dressed."

He points to the towel on his hips and Lir's mouth pops open before promptly shutting. "Oh! I'm such an idiot. Yes, let me get out of your way." She stands and walks past him to the door, but Dante doesn't move, forcing her to squeeze between him and the countertop. Their eyes meet briefly, but then she blushes and pulls herself away, and he leans over to watch her disappear through his bedroom into the hallway.

He waits until he knows she's gone to reach for the lotion. The moment his fingers touch the bottle, he hesitates; all he can think of is the shape of her body beneath her clothes, the gentle curve of her hips, and he drops his hand with a groan. No way Miss June, or any of them, is gonna cut it now that he's got her lodged on his mind, and he steps out into the bedroom and rifles through his closet—another strange, new thing, all of his clothes neatly folded or hung on pegs—until he finds something suitable to wear for a day off. Then he steps into the jeans and yanks the t-shirt over his head, deciding that's fine enough, no need for shoes.

It's not like he's going anywhere, anyway.

Lir is settled on the couch, two cups of steaming coffee on the table in front of her, her ankles crossed neatly as she studies the weapons hung on the wall behind the television. It's something he catches her doing often, though he doesn't think it's out of fear. She seems more curious than anything, and that suspicion is confirmed when she says, "Um, Agni? Rudra? Do you need to be dusted?"

He's startled to hear Agni reply, almost politely, "No, little lady, but thank you. We are still comfortable from our cleaning last week."

"Yes," Rudra agrees. "Thank you."

"Shouldn't be too nice to them," he says as he scoops up the coffee cup. Lir looks at him as he gestures towards the swords. "They'll start acting like they're important or something."

"Hey!" the brothers shout, but Lir laughs. "I think they're sweet," she says.

Dante rolls his eyes. He moves to sit at his desk, wanting to seem casual, but really he just likes to watch her. He pretends to read as she pulls out a notebook, making what he is sure is another list. Once in a while she stops to tap her pen to her cheek, and when she does that her tongue pokes out for a moment, and it drives him nuts how adorable it is.

The rest of the morning wears on similarly, the shop quiet except for when she asks him a question, or he reads her something that catches his eye. It's nice to have peace in the shop, he decides, and even when Lir snaps on the television, he loves how they can be comfortable together without having to do anything or say anything. It dawns on him that this is pretty domestic, and he wonders if this is what marriage is like. If it is, maybe he should have taken her up on her offer after all.

The door to the shop opens, and they both look up in surprise. "It's Saturday," Dante calls, standing up to go shoo whoever it is away. "Read the sign on the door. No appointments today."

"Dante," Lir says, quietly, and he stops and looks at her. Her face has gone very pale, her eyes very wide, and his first instinct is to protect her from whatever it is that's causing her distress. "That's . . ."

"I had expected a warmer welcome from our son-in-law," a woman's voice says, "but I suppose, given that we did not call ahead, it can be forgiven."

_ Son-in-law?  _ He moves to Lir, shifting his gaze back to the door. Two people stand on the rug she had purchased last week: the first is a woman with mousy brown hair and pale green eyes, her plump figure covered by an immaculate dress like something from one of those Jane Austen movies he and Lir had watched last week. The second is a man, tall and thin, his pale hair receding the slightest bit from his forehead, his dark eyes looking around curiously. Like the woman, he's dressed in rather dated clothing, and Dante makes the connection just as Lir steps forward.

"Mother," she says, "father. What a surprise! We weren't expecting any visitors today, so you'll have to excuse our state of dress."

"Lir!" she cries. The woman walks across the room, arms extended, and grabs Lir into a huge hug. She plants a wet kiss on her cheek before pushing her back to look her up and down. "Oh, my beautiful girl. Let me look at you! I can't believe you're here, I was so worried!"

"Worried?" Lir frowns.

"Yes! I thought you hadn't made it, or something terrible had happened. You didn't write! I would have at least expected a thank you card or  _ something. _ And then that horrible  _ woman _ showed up asking about things and I thought, well she's gone and done it, my little girl has ruined our clan forever by failing to impress the son of Sparda. Why else would some stranger come around asking about the oath unless disaster had happened? But! Here you are, alive and well and—" She cuts off her monologue to give Dante a look up and down. "He does own shoes, doesn't he?"

_ Lady,  _ Dante thinks, trying his hardest not to grit his teeth. "Of course he does," Lir replies. "As I said, we weren't expecting company today, so—"

"Yes, yes, yes, of course." The woman smiles, though there's something sharp to it. "Aren't you going to introduce us properly?"

Lir takes a deep breath, a sign of irritation he recognizes, and it feeds into his own in a way it shouldn't. "Mother, father, this is Dante, son of Sparda. Dante, this is Lorenna, my mother, and Augustus, my father."

"Very pleased to meet you," Augustus says pleasantly. "I do apologize for dropping in on you like this. When weeks went by without a word from Lirael, Lorenna became rather distraught. We were expecting some sort of confirmation of marriage, you see."

They both look at him expectantly, and Dante realizes they are waiting for him to speak. "What?"

The woman leans in towards Lir. "Not very intelligent, is he?" she murmurs loudly.

"Mother!"

Lorenna waves her off. She walks over to Dante and stretches up, giving a little wave. "Nice. To. Meeeet. Youuu," she says, exaggerating each word.

Lir covers her face. "Mother, what are you doing?"

"He's part demon, dear, does he even speak English?"

"Rather well, actually," Dante says sharply. Lorenna's eyes narrow, but his last concern is how someone like her feels, Lir's mother or not. "Lir didn't write because she's been settlin' in, figurin' things out."

"Oh! Oh, of course. I do suppose it must take some adjusting, and she was always a willful thing. Augustus spoiled her rotten, you see, which is why we were in such a panic to get her trained properly before she left." Stepping back, she gestures to Lir, standing miserably by her father. "See? The moment I do something she doesn't like, it's right off to him she goes."

Dante opens his mouth to argue, but Lir lifts her chin and walks over. "Won't you sit?" she asks tightly. "Can I get you something?"

"Go make tea," Lorenna says as she sits on the couch. "Oh," she frowns. "Isn't this . . . an interesting material."

Dante turns to glare at Lir, who glares at him back, and then they both turn to walk quickly to the kitchen. He pushes her inside and holds the door closed behind them, hissing at her, "What are they doing here?"

"I don't know!" she wails, leaning against the countertop, holding her head in her hands. "This is a disaster! There is no  _ way _ my mother isn't going to know we aren't getting married."

"So what?" Dante says.

Lir looks at him furiously. "They'll make me leave, Dante. If I'm a failure at this, which technically I am, then they'll make me go home."

"The hell they will," he growls. "I'll go set them straight right now."

He turns to stalk back to the office, but Lir grabs his arm and tugs hard. "No, please! Just let me think before you go barging out there!"

The pleading look in her eyes, the desperation in her voice, both of them make him try to get a grip on himself. "Make the tea," he says lowly, "and think. I'll try to buy you some time."

"Dante! Dante, wait—"

He steps back into the office and makes his way to the couches, taking the one not occupied by Lir's parents. Her mother's nose is wrinkled faintly as she studies the television, but her father still seems merely intrigued by his surroundings, and it's easy enough to see which of them had the most influence on how she views the world around her. "So," he says, "you mentioned getting married?"

"That girl!" Lorenna tuts. "Don’t tell me she’s gone and done it  _ without _ being married first. What will people think?"

"She was probably only busy, dear," Augustus interjects mildly. To Dante, he says, "I'm certain she's told you of Ler?" Dante nods. "Good. Well, it is through him that the horrors of the sea are kept locked away, but that spell has been slowly weakening over the years. The promise between him and Sparda, your father, served two purposes: a reward for Ler's help, and a way to renew the wards before they shatter completely."

Lorenna pats her husband's leg. "Oh, enough about all that! You can talk about that later." She turns with a huge smile to Dante. "So, you're the legendary son of Sparda. I must say, your father certainly took his  _ time _ in producing a son for Ler's line, didn't he?"

Dante clears his throat. "Actually—"

"You don’t really  _ look _ like him, not that there were cameras back then," she continues, laughing at her joke. "But the portraits we have do show some resemblance, around here . . ." She gestures towards Dante's nose, "And there . . ." She gestures to his eyes, "Although you don't have the, uh . . . well, the antlers. Which honestly is quite a relief."

"Sparda —"

"Although I have to say I did expect something a bit more . . ." Dante grits his teeth as she talks over him, gesturing around to the room. "One would think the savior of humanity would have been able to afford a bit better. But oh well! We can't all live in fancy mansions can we?" she finishes with a huge laugh.

"I think it's rather nice," Augustus murmurs.

"Of course you do, dear." Lir emerges from the kitchen with a tea set he didn't know he had balanced on a tray he was also ignorant of, and Lorenna fixes on her like a vulture. "Ah, here she is! I do hope you haven't forgotten how to make a decent pot of tea while you've been gone."

"Lorenna." Her father's voice has a faint edge to it. "Forgive her, Lirael. Our journey was more taxing than either of us expected, and you know how your mother gets when she's tired."

"Of course," Lir demures.

Seeing her like that, like she was when she arrived, sets Dante on edge. "Your parents were telling me about marriage."

Lir almost drops the tray, and Dante jumps up to grab it just in time. He frowns when he sees the deep blush on her cheeks, setting the tray down on the table as he watches her closely. Lorenna tuts as she goes about setting out cups and saucers. "Such a klutz," she sighs.

"She looks well, though," Augustus remarks as Lir hands him a cup. "Domestic life does look good on you, my girl!"

Lir flinches a bit as she pours, and Augustus turns to Dante. "Now you must tell me all about Sparda. I've heard so many stories about him. But first, how has our girl been treating you? Have you found her suitable?"

Both he and Lorenna look at him expectantly, and Dante blinks, not knowing what to say. He glances at Lir, who has gone pale, and clears his throat. "She's great," he says.

That seems to be the right thing, as Augustus beams and Lorenna claps her hands. "Wonderful!" the woman cries. "I want to hear all about you, Dante," she says coyly. "We saw you on the news, fighting those demons in Fortuna. What a business that was!"

"Did Sparda really show up there?" Augustus asks.

"Do you have any photos from the wedding?" Lorenna chimes in. "I'm assuming the civil ceremony was small enough that her own mother didn't need an invitation. Otherwise why else would my own daughter not include me on such an important day? And to the son of Sparda, no less?"

The flurry of questions leaves him speechless. Luckily for him, Lir seems to know how to handle her mother. "Of course I didn't forget to invite you, Mama, don't be ridiculous. We aren’t married.”

Her mother looks shocked, but Augustus clears his throat and says, “Well, of course . . . we’re just old fashioned and thought—”

“We haven’t . . . done  _ that, _ either,” Lir says quickly, and Dante frowns. Why the hell are they so interested in knowing what they’ve been up to? Lir is safe and happy, isn’t that enough for them? He is about to say something when she continues, “I know how much you loved planning my sister's wedding, so I asked Dante if we could do a simple little thing here when you were available to help with it. I only got so caught up in learning about him and what he does that I forgot to send the letter."

"Oh! Of course!" Lorenna beams at her daughter. "Of course, a wedding to the son of Sparda deserves all the touches. I’m so glad you’ve decided to take my advice, I would have hated to think of you doing this your way." She lifts her cup and takes a sip of tea. "Now, Dante, I'll leave you and Augustus to talk while Lir shows me around." She looks around critically at the freshly mopped floor and dusted furniture. "I can already tell there is plenty of cleaning to be done, and I have no doubt the upstairs is a shambles. Lir was never very good at keeping house. If we're to have a wedding here, we'll need it in perfect condition. Unless you want a tour too, dear?" she asks Augustus as she stands, who shakes his head. "Alright then, Lir darling, let's start in the kitchen, shall we?"

Lir gives him a look that clearly means  _ behave,  _ and he inclines his head slightly to show he understands, the expression of relief that flickers across her face warming him quite a bit. Once the women are gone, Augustus leans back with a chuckle. "Always thinks she knows best, that one. Well, it's a heavy burden to bear, producing a suitable wife, and Lirael's being chosen ruffled more than a few feathers."

"Yeah, Lir mentioned something about that." Despite his irritation at these new intruders, he finds himself begrudgingly  _ liking  _ the open, affable nature of Augustus. "Sounds like you and your wife were busy."

"Mm, yes, all five of them were handfuls in their own way. Florence, our eldest, was the one raised from birth to fulfill this role, you understand, and so were Lily and Irene, but, by the time Lirael was born, we had given up hope on you appearing during her generation. If we'd learned of you even a week later, she would have been promised to another, and Ilya would have come in her stead."

Dante mulls over that, wondering what life would be like if it had been someone other than Lir, deciding he doesn't care to think about it. "Why do you call her that?"

"Lirael?" Dante nods. "Ah." Augustus steeples his fingers in his lap. "It's her name, though I had to fight fiercely for it to be. There is a . . . test of sorts that is performed whenever one of Ler's descendant's is with child, meant to test the potential magic of the unborn. Hers was the strongest in centuries. I thought it only fitting she was named after him."

"She was?" he glances at the kitchen with a frown. Other than some general healing things, Lir hadn't talked much about magic.

Augustus laughs. "Of course you knew that already! Must have been quite a shock for Lirael to show up at your door though. From what we understand, Sparda has not been seen in quite some time. Do you know what happened to him?"

Dante looks at him and shakes his head with a frown. "Ah well," Augustus sighs. "I would have liked to have met him. But no worries, we have detailed accounts about the transfer of power, and can take care of everything."

“Transfer of power?” The more he learns about this stupid promise, the more this sounds like something he wants no parts of, spells and ceremonies and transferring power now giving him a headache. His eyes go to the kitchen door again as Augustus continues talking, wondering what to do. If he decides to go back on Sparda’s promise, where will that leave Lir?


	7. Chapter 7

Dante considers his options carefully, listening to the sounds of Lorenna in the kitchen. "This marriage . . . does it have to be done soon?" Augustus frowns, and he adds quickly, "I only ask because, well . . .?"

_ He  _ doesn't even know where that thought was going, but Augustus must take it some kind of way, because understanding dawns on his face. "Oh, of course! It would make sense, given your, ah, heritage, that you would be rather possessive of her, particularly once you are newly wedded. Rest assured, we’ll have you two married in no time."

Dante blinks at him. "I don't get it."

Augustus chuckles. "Oh don't worry. Her mother will sort out the details. And my daughter knows well enough what to do. All you need is to lay back and let it all happen." Then he frowns a bit. "Your father didn't give you much detail, did he?"

"No, I guess he didn't."

They lapse into silence. Dante does his best not to fidget, but this visit is taking far longer than he'd like and he's worried about what Lir might be enduring. Augustus pulls a pipe and a pack of matches from his jacket; the sight, and scent of the smoke when he lights it, reminds Dante of his father. "She seems much happier here," Augustus says. "As unexpected as this was, I'm glad for that."

"Was she miserable before?"

"No, not as such. Overlooked might be the better word. Lorenna worried more for our eldest daughters, leaving Lirael to her own devices, for the most part, at least until Ilya was born."

"Listen, I gotta be straight with you." Dante rubs his hands on his jeans, wondering if he is making the right choice. There is a low sound of voices from the kitchen, and he wishes he could talk to Lir first, but Augustus seems decent enough. "I didn't know anything about this until Lir came," he says. "Sparda disappeared when I was a kid. I didn't know he had made this deal."

"I see," Augustus murmurs. "Then it is good that you have been so accepting."

"See, that's the thing, I, uh . . ." Dante rubs the back of his head, trying to find the right words. "Lir is a great girl, and I like her a lot. I really do. She's sweet and funny and kind and she makes a killer lasagna. But, uh . . . I don't think this whole marriage thing is . . ." Augustus frowns, slowly lowering his pipe. "It's not that I don't want to!" he hurries on. "I mean, don't want to do it with Lir. I do. I would? It's not Lir, it's, uh, it's anybody. I don't know if I'd marry anybody."

He cringes a bit as Augustus stares at him. "I see," the old man finally murmurs.

"It's just, I'm a devil hunter, right? Not good at anything else, really. And I got baddies riding up to my door all the time, I'm always going here or there to slay something or fight something. And having someone like Lir at home, waiting for me, or even in danger?" Dante shakes his head. "Never felt it was right."

There is a long, tense moment during which Augustus merely looks at him, his face unreadable. "The marriage itself," he says, quietly, "is merely a formality. An act of good faith, if you will. The promise is fulfilled without it, if that is your wish."

"What would happen to her?" Dante asks, jerking his chin towards the kitchen. "She was terrified when she got here of what would happen if I sent her back."

"You said that you would if it was her, did you not? Rest assured, so long as the promise is fulfilled, Lir would live comfortably at the compound as your . . . Well, concubine is too archaic a word, perhaps." He sighs, rubbing at his chin. "She would be kept in special rooms, where you could visit her whenever you pleased, for company or for relations."

"No, no, woah, hold on," Dante says, holding up his hands. "No, you got it all backwards. I want Lir to stay, she can stay as long as she wants! It's the marriage thing, you can't just force two people to get married because two guys made a promise two thousand years ago. Did anybody ask what she wants?"

Augustus bristles. "We trust in Ler's judgment."

"You do. I don't. And what is this promise anyway?" he growls, starting to get angry. "Everyone is talking about shit I don't know about and I'm starting to get pissed. What the hell is the point?"

He frowns as the old man looks around, then leans in a bit. "Well, it's to bond her magic to you. A way to keep the wards in place. You've heard of the magic Ler used to seal the demon realm?" Dante nods, and Augustus continues, "He promised to keep the oceans safe if Sparda would give his son for his daughter. Now there is a son and a daughter so it needs to happen. I can feel the magic already growing thin the longer it waits."

Dante swallows thickly. He doesn't even want to  _ think _ about what would happen if another seal opened. It had taken him and Lady months to get rid of the ones that escaped out of the Temen-ni-gru, and Nero was still dealing with Fortuna. "What do I have to do?" he asks.

"It is simple," Augustus shrugs. "You make the seal with your bodies. You know, intercourse.”

Dante stares at the older man, simply nodding his head. Then he turns his head and shouts, "Lir!"

Augustus jumps, but Dante ignores him and stands. "Lir! Get out here, will ya?"

She appears at the door with a frown, her mother following. "Everything okay?" she asks as she makes her way over.

"Would you excuse us?" he mutters through gritted teeth. Dante grabs her by the arm and pulls her towards the steps, hurrying her upstairs until they are in his room, when he shuts the door and locks it for good measure.

He turns to see her staring at him, her eyes wide. "What in the world is going on?" Lir demands.

"You have to get them out of here," Dante whispers loudly.

Lir rolls her eyes. "I know they are a lot, but they are mostly harmless. Honestly, they will love you, it's me they—"

"They want us to fuck!" he hisses, stepping up close to her. Lir swallows visibly and Dante nods. "Yeah. I know all about it. Why didn't you tell me about it? You lied to me!"

She holds up her hands pleadingly. "You seemed against the marriage, so I thought bringing up the . . . lovemaking would go over worse. And, after Morrison's visit, I didn't . . . I mean, for all I know, it's bullshit! Maybe we just have to shake hands, or rub elbows, or . . . I don't know. But I didn't want to bring it up when I don't believe in it like I should."

Dante tenses, raising his shoulders and pointing a finger at her, trying to think of something to say. But Lir simply stares at him, so he turns furiously and begins to pace. "We need to get out of this," he says.

"You know, I'm starting to think I should be offended," Lir huffs.

Stopping in his tracks, Dante looks at her sharply. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean, you're so violently against sleeping with me," she says, not meeting his gaze. "Would it really be so bad? If it was to save the world?"

"No," he says, shortly, "but if I'm gonna have sex with you, it's gonna be on my own terms, not because of some promise no one remembers."

Lir bows her head, wrapping her arms around herself. "So what do you propose? We don't . . . have to get married. I'm already over that. But this other part . . I don't think we can get out of it."

Dante growls, cursing under his breath as he walks over to the dresser. Planting his hands on the wood, he takes a few deep breaths to keep his temper. "We need to figure out if this is real or not." Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her nod. "Why the hell would Ler make the seal based on two people . . ."

His voice trails away, not wanting to say it again. To his surprise, Lir laughs. "Maybe he really did hate Sparda," she jokes.

Dante turns sharply, his eyes narrowed as he looks at her. He feels his shoulders sag and rubs his forehead as he asks, "So, what, uh . . . goes into this anyway?"

"Into the wedding?" she asks. When he nods, she sighs and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, tugging at the blanket with her fingers. "A normal one, I suppose, with the council and my parents. Yours would be there, too, under normal circumstances, but you can invite whoever you wish to stand in for your family. We have a little ceremony and a party afterwards, and then we consummate the . . . the seal."

"In front of everyone?" he cries.

"No! Oh!" Lir bursts into laughter, and he frowns again. "No, no, we would just go somewhere." She gestures her hand in a circle as if that explains anything.

A loud knock on the door interrupts them. "Hello! Are you in there?" Lorena's voice is sing-song on the other side, and the doorknob jiggles. "Everything alright? Can't be doing anything in there without the wedding first you know!"

"Mother, please," Lir calls. She stands and opens the door, revealing both of her parents standing on the other side. "We are allowed privacy in our own home, aren't we?"

"Oh, of course." But that doesn't stop her from stepping inside, looking around herself with a wrinkled nose. "This won't do at all, I'm afraid. Have you forgotten everything you were taught about keeping house, dear?"

"This is Dante's room, not mine," Lir counters. "I'm not telling him what to do with his space."

Lorena does not answer for a moment, simply turning in a circle to take it in. "Well. It will need to be fixed for the wedding night at least."

Dante grits his teeth. "The wedding—"

"We were just discussing that," Lir interrupts Dante, and she gives him a pleading look as he scowls at her. "Before we set a date, is there a way we can see the texts? To be sure everything we do is accurate," she hurries when Lorena frowns.

"We don't normally share them with outsiders," her mother says in a scolding tone.

"You want me to screw your daughter but not answer my questions?" Dante growls.

It is utterly the wrong thing to say. All of the color drains from Lir's face while her mother's takes on a rather unflattering purple hue, and her father's lips press into a thin line. "I have  _ never—"  _ Lorenna begins, her voice quivering.

Quickly, Lir interjects. "It was lovely to see you both. Allow me to show you out."

"What!" Lorenna looks ready to blow, her face puffed and her hands clenched as she yells at her daughter. "I did not raise you to be so rude! I am your mother, and we are the protectors of the word of Ler! You will not send me out when I have business here!"

Augustus lays a hand on her arm. "Please calm down. It was a shock to Sparda, he didn't know—"

"Well that isn't our problem, is it?" she shouts. Then Lorenna points a finger at Dante, who scowls back. "Just because  _ your _ father didn't think it important enough to mention, mark my word, that seal is real and it is breaking! Demons could break through any day now, and then what will you do, Mister Big Devil Hunter? Do you think I'm  _ happy _ to give my daughter to a demon? But it's what I must do to stop that from happening! Now you  _ will _ get married, fulfill this oath, and I'm not hearing another word about it!"

Dante looks at her, this ugly little woman screaming not only at him, but at  _ Lir,  _ and decides that, quite frankly, he's had enough of her and this entire ordeal. "Get out," he says, his voice cold. "Whether you do it through the door or the window, I don't give a shit, but get the  _ hell  _ out."

"Why you—"

"Mother, please!" Lir pleads. She steps between them, her hands on Lorenna's arms. "Please. I'll call you tonight, okay? Let me talk to him."

Lorenna fumes, but Dante can only look at them incredulously. Lir is going to talk to  _ him? _ What about  _ them? _ But Augustus is the one who intervenes, pulling his wife from the room as Lir follows, their footsteps on the steps heavy as she begins another tirade about rudeness until the front door opens and shuts and leaves the Devil May Cry in blessed silence.

He waits for Lir to come back upstairs, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side. What the fuck is he supposed to do? It was one thing when this . . . this sham of a marriage was far off and distant and nearly forgotten; now that it's slammed itself into his face, he wonders if he should send her back to wherever the hell she came from and get on with his life. The whole bit about a seal breaking is probably bullshit, anyway, and maybe everything she's ever told him is, too. And he lapped it up because she was pretty and nice and took care of him.

Truly furious now, Dante stalks down to the office, more than ready to tell her to get her shit and get out, just like he had her parents. But the sight that greets him has him pausing, even if it only makes him angrier. Lir is sitting on the couch, her head buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she tries to muffle the sounds of her crying. 

He frowns, takes a step towards her, and stops. Lir hadn't cried since her first day, and it's even more unnerving now that he knows her better. He puts his hands on his hips, cursing under his breath and wondering if he should call someone. Maybe Lady or Morrison will come comfort her? Nero?

"Damn it," he mutters. No, that's stupid. And something tells him that it would only make things worse to call someone else.

He approaches cautiously, but Lir makes no indication she knows he is there. "Hey," he says lamely, his voice quiet. Dante pauses a foot away, and Lir takes a few gulping breaths. Then he sits next to her, not sure what to do before finally giving her a pat on the back. "Uh, sorry about all that."

She shakes her head, curling away from his touch, and that  _ hurts.  _ "No, it's . . . This is my fault. I thought they wouldn't come here, not as long as I was . . . If they thought everything was going well, and . . ."

"It's not your fault," Dante sighs. 

"It is! I should have been more honest. I should have known you didn't understand." That stings him too, but Lir groans as she holds her face. "The worst part? They knew this would happen. There was so much  _ debate _ about whether or not I should go. If my older sisters had been able to, no one would have questioned it. And they wondered if they should wait, but the wards were getting thin and it's like, I'm the last hope, you know? But I'm just hopeless."

"Then we'll do it." Her head snaps up, her lips parted with surprise, and he shrugs and tries to appear nonchalant. "We'll do the . . . the sex thing. It's only the once, right? Then we can go back to how things have been, and you won't have to worry about them coming after you."

"What? No!" she cries.

"Why not?" he asks incredulously. "Isn't this why you came here in the first place?"

"I can't let you do this." Lir stands, wiping the tears from her eyes before she begins to pace. "There must be another way. Another spell, maybe, or some magic I can find . . . Maybe I can figure out how to alter the agreement, make it so it's only on me and has nothing to do with Sparda, or figure out where the gates are thinning and go there and—"

Dante laughs, shaking his head, and she stops to look at him with a frown. "Are you crazy?" he asks.

"What?"

"You're talking about using magic that doesn't exist anymore. And what, going to the ocean? You some kind of submarine?"

Lir pops her hand on her hip with a huff. "It might work," she argues, but her voice is unconvinced.

Dante smirks. "Should I be offended? I mean would sleeping with me really be so bad?"

Her cheeks flush, and that relaxes him. This feels more normal, whatever that means, and, while he's still not pleased at how the day has gone, she's not running. Not like everyone else has. "It's not that," she explains, "but I . . . I don't want you to do this because you have to. Because you feel forced into it. And it's not fair to put this on you, especially when you knew nothing about it."

Dante sighs. "There's a lot about being a Sparda that isn't fair. Just add it to the pile. Besides," he adds with a small smile. "it'll be worth it to see the look on your mother's face."

Lir laughs quietly, wiping away the last of her tears, and Dante feels something heavy in his chest. She looks almost frail, almost delicate like this, and there is a surge to protect that goes beyond what he does for the city. Before, killing devils was just because he  _ did, _ no reason beyond to make a buck and because he was good at it. Deep down there might have been some sense of justice and the benefit of humanity and all that, but after losing Vergil it became more of a reaction. Dante killed demons because he did, and never bothered to think any further than that. Nero had brought some of the fun and the thrill back. Being around the kid had breathed some life into him and into the Devil May Cry, but Nero could take care of himself.

But Lir is different. He doesn't understand why or how, but he wants to protect her. He wants to make sure the oath is filled and the power keeping the demons in their dimension stays firm. He wants the world to be safe because she is in it.

"Hell," he says out loud, mostly thinking to himself, "if we're gonna do this, might as well just get married and have it full stop."

"What?"

He blinks, coming back to himself, but the words, once spoken, don't sound quite as awful as they did the first time he heard them. "I like havin' you around," he muses, "and it's not like anythin' has to change. Nowadays, marriage is more a legal thing, y'know? Go to the courthouse, have someone sign a piece of paper, and it's done."

"Is this because of my parents?" she asks, quietly.

Dante considers that carefully. "Nah. It's about  _ you.  _ Havin' you here, keepin' ya safe. And, if it's you, I don't think it'll be so bad."

She stares at him, frozen, the color drained from her face. The moment stretches on long enough that Dante starts to wonder if he said the wrong thing, and when a few tears roll down her cheek, he knows he screwed up. "Aw hell, don't—"

Lir rushes over to him, halting just shy of tackling him on the couch. She looks down as he gazes up, wondering what to do, when tentatively she reaches for him and wraps her arms around his shoulders. It isn't the first hug she's given him by any means, but it feels different; she presses her face to his shoulder and leans her weight against him, and Dante half holds her as she sags into his arms.

"Thank you," she whispers. "You won't regret—I'll do whatever it takes to make this work, I promise."

He smooths his palm along her back comfortingly. "It's okay," he says. "Should be fine. Like we're business partners."

She chuckles and looks up, their faces nearly touching. Her eyes are still watery, but shining, and Dante can't look away from her damp lashes. He feels her fingers stroke the base of his hairline, sending shivers through him, gulping as his eyes drift down to her lips.

"Lir," he murmurs.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" She pulls away with an apologetic smile, leaving a ghost of her touch on his skin. "Are you still sore from your fall this morning? I think I have something for that somewhere. I didn't mean to be so careless."

But Dante holds onto her hips, keeping her pressed against him. "You're really okay with this?" he asks. "You want to marry me after just a few weeks, just in case some old demons made a bet? You could have anyone. You could fall in love someday."

Her expression shifts into something so sad that it tugs at him, makes him want to comfort her in any way that he can. "Things like that are in the movies," she tells him. "They don't exist for someone like me. But I . . . I really do like you, Dante. Even if it weren't for this oath, I wouldn't mind marrying you at all."

Dante isn't too sure about that. He's never been in love, but he's seen others, and Nero and Kyrie are definitely in love. Even his memories of his parents are filled with their warmth, their kisses in the kitchen and their friendly arguments. But maybe she is right; love doesn't happen to people like them.

He nods and loosens his grip, allowing Lir to ease up. "Let me call my mother and appease her," she says. "Then I'll get you something for the pain, and then we can start planning." She turns to head back upstairs, but at the base of the steps she turns and smiles at him. "Thank you for this, Dante."

Dante nods and watches her hurry upstairs before he realizes what he's just done. Suddenly his palms are sweaty and his mouth is dry, and he sinks into the couch, running his hands on his thighs. "Getting married," he murmurs under his breath, shaking his head.


	8. Chapter 8

"Oh, it's  _ gorgeous!"  _ Kyrie gushes.

Lir smiles at her, still holding the dress up to her shoulders. The wedding gown—something she's had to get used to saying, the disbelief that this is actually happening not quite gone yet—is only halfway done, with sections pinned together, but the sentiment is sweet. "Do you really think so?"

"Of course! It's going to be beautiful on you, I can tell." Putting the bundle in her arms on the foot of the bed, Kyrie crosses the room to run her fingers over the silk of the bodice. "I might have to ask you to make mine, if . . ."

A blush stains her cheeks as she falls silent. "If Nero ever proproses?" Lir prods, gently, and she nods. "I'm certain he will. You two have been together for some time now, haven't you?"

"Unofficially. yes. Officially, only about a year or so. Are you going to add lace?"

Lir carefully carries the gown over to the mannequin and hangs it. All of these things, the fabric, the doll, the sewing equipment, had been sent by her mother, along with a pattern and strict instructions  _ not  _ to deviate from it. Her little rebellion is the red beads she intends to sew into the edges of the veil. "Yes. The skirt and bodice will both have lace."

"Well, how can I help?" Kyrie asks. "I know a bit of sewing, but you can give me directions."

"You can help me pin the bottom hem if that's alright," she replies.

Kyrie agrees, and the two work together to put the straight pins in to fix the rough edge. Once that is completed, Kyrie helps her slide the dress on so she can make adjustments and ensure the bottom is even. Lir stands on a chair, watching Kyrie work in the mirror, trying to keep herself from feeling excited.

At least, not too excited. Her parents had been thrilled with the news, and it was little trouble to arrange for some food and refreshments with the money they sent. The wedding and ceremony were going to take place right in the Devil May Cry, and Lir had spent the better part of two weeks getting the place ready with deep cleaning, some fresh paint, and repairs. Dante had humored her well enough, even going so far to help when she asked, but he did not seem to share her enthusiasm.

Kyrie is just finishing up when there is a knock on the door. "Don't come in!" Kyrie shouts, but Dante already has the door open. She hurries over waving her hands. "Don't look! It's bad luck!"

"It's not like I haven't seen her befo—ow,  _ ow!  _ Okay!" He enters with his eyes closed, rubbing the tip of his nose. From what she'd heard, Lir gathers that Kyrie had accidentally caught him there with the door. "I came to see if you ladies needed anything. Nero an' I are goin' out to grab some of that paint you asked for, Lir, and I was thinkin' we'd get dinner and bring it home, too."

"That would be wonderful!" It's these small moments of thoughtfulness, more than anything else, that fill her with a bittersweet ache. They make her happy, certainly, but with them come the what-ifs that she doesn't want to consider: what if they had met under different circumstances, what if they could love each other like they did in the movies? "Where were you thinking?"

"Mm, no clue. 'S why I came up to ask you two."

Kyrie presses her hands together. "I could  _ really  _ go for a cheeseburger right now, with some fries and extra bacon. What about you, Lir?"

"Uh . . ." She catches sight of the hopeful cast to Dante's features. "It sounds great, actually! I'm famished."

"Okay." Kyrie moves back to her, but Lir spies Dante peeking through his fingers. "The dress looks nice," he says, but skirts out the door when Kyrie yelps at him.

Lir is laughing when she turns back to the dress with an annoyed huff. "I don't know how it is you two ended up together," Kyrie chuckles, "but thank goodness. I don't know anyone else who could put up with him for very long."

She pauses in smoothing a wrinkle from the waist, her heart in her throat and her mouth dry. Nero knows, at least in part, why she's here. Dante had told him it was an arranged marriage, and left it at that. Had Nero not informed Kyrie? Should she? Instead, she clears her throat and asks, "Is he truly that difficult to be around?"

". . . No, not . . . not exactly." Glancing in the mirror reveals Kyrie looking at her hands, clasping them slowly in front of her. "I don't know him that well, if I'm honest. I wasn't conscious for a lot of what happened in Fortuna, and he didn't stick around for very long once it was done. It's only been in the past few months that he's really become more of a fixture in our lives outside of showing Nero the ropes, but . . ."

Her gaze lifts to fix on Lir's through the glass. "He's suffered, I think. So, he shuts people out, and closes himself off. It's easier if he  _ doesn't  _ get attached, because he's the only one like himself, you know? So, he's lonely, but he can't do anything about it. Nero was the same way for a long time. Now that we have the orphanage, he's a bit more settled, but both of them are like . . . dogs that have been abused. They're angry, and hurting, and lash out to drive others off."

"Sounds about right," Lir murmurs.

By the time they are finished with the hemming, the guys are downstairs and calling up for them. Kyrie helps her replace the dress and Lir quickly gets dressed before heading downstairs.

They have set up the food on the table in the sitting area. Nero and Kyrie sit on the floor, so Lir steps over Dante's legs to take a spot on the couch next to him. Nero hands her a takeout container that has her burger and fries inside, and Lir digs in. She still isn't used to all of the fried and greasy goodness, marveling how delicious everything is.

"Can't believe you two are really doing this," Nero says. "A few weeks ago it seemed like you didn't want it at all."

"What can I say? Things change." Lir watches as Dante steadfastly picks the pickles off his burger with a frown, smiling a little at the gesture. "A few weeks ago, I didn't know I had a laundry room, if we're listing them."

Nero rolls his eyes. "There's a difference between that and getting hitched. You okay?" He asks Lir. "He didn't blackmail you or anything, did he?"

Beneath the teasing, there's a genuine concern, and she sets her burger down. "No, nothing like that. We just talked about it, that's all. Although I don't think he could threaten me even if he tried. He's too nice for that."

"Don't tell him that," Dante complains, and she laughs.

"Your family is coming, Lir?" Kyrie asks.

She nods, dabbing her face with a napkin. "My parents and my sisters will be here. And some members from our . . . town." 

"That's so nice," she says. "It's too bad you don't have any family nearby, Dante."

"Yeah . . ." He scratches his head, as if nervously, and Lir frowns. "Speaking of which," Dante says, "Nero, you want to do me a solid and be my guy? Thing? For the wedding?"

Nero frowns. "You mean best man? Why me?"

"Who else am I gonna ask? Morrison?" Dante snorts. "You're the only one I've really spent time with outside of work, and you've got a good head on your shoulders. Besides, you'd be doin' me a favor, which means . . ." He grimaces. "I'd owe you one." 

Nero laughs a bit evilly, but a quick elbow from Kyrie has him swallowing that down. "Sure, yeah, no problem." Then he glances at Lir. "Do I gotta wear a tux or something?"

Lir laughs and shakes her head. "No, it's casual. Just whatever you're comfortable in."

They continue their meal amiably, and Kyrie and Lir discuss some of the details with the other two chiming in with jokes. Once the food is done and cleaned up, Nero steers Kyrie to the door. "Gotta get home before the sitter costs us an arm and a leg," he says. "Hey Dante, I'll be back on Saturday if you need more help."

"Yup," he says, and they say their goodbyes as the couple leaves.

Dante stands next to her by the door, and she looks up as he looks down. "I should probably get started on the painting," he says.

"Actually," Lir replies before he can walk away, "there's something I've been thinking about. That I think we need to discuss."

He makes a face. "I'm already marrying you, what else could you possibly need?"

She gives him a look and he chuckles at his joke. "Fine, fine. What is it?"

"Come sit," she says, butterflies in her stomach as he heads back to the couch.

Once they're settled on the cushions, Dante in his usual sprawl and her with feet tucked under her, she finds it hard to speak. She's been thinking about this for days, and it  _ feels  _ important, yet now that the opportunity has come up to suggest it, nerves leave her struggling for the right words. Dante tilts his head to study her, his amiable expression shifting to concern. "Hey, what's buggin' you? You've got a funny look on your face."

"Do I?" Lir touches her cheeks, then drops her hands. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." He frowns. "Is it serious? Gotta be honest, you're starting to make me a bit nervous."

Her fingers twist in the hem of her shirt, a habit she's picked up since living here that's more liberating than she'd thought it would be when her mother had drilled it out of her. "I think it is, but maybe it's not. It's just . . . We have to convince everyone I've ever known that you and I are . . . Well, that we've been intimate to some degree. They'll expect it. My mother can be . . . difficult, but I've no doubts that she's told them how perfect we are for each other, if only because she doesn't want to feel like she failed to teach me properly."

"I'm not followin'." His brows furrow as he turns to face her fully. "I thought they didn't want us being, uh, intimate before the ceremony?"

"Not like that," she says quickly, "but I'm supposed to be your wife, right? So, they'll judge us based on that, and if something is amiss, they might . . . call it off and find someone else to set up with you."

"Could they?"

"I don't know, honestly. My older sisters are all married or engaged, and Ilya is too young. But they might, if they felt desperate enough, break one of the engagements. There's not a precedent, though, so I don't . . . I don't know."

Dante rolls his eyes, which makes her blush. "I'm marrying you. What more do these people want?"

She swallows the embarrassment she feels at that statement. She knows that he is doing this to keep the seal in its place, and out of obligation from Sparda's promise. Lir has not let herself think for even a moment that he was doing this because he wanted to, or for her, outside of the oath. He had said he liked having her around, and that was more than she could hope for.

Yet hearing his annoyance stings, so she hurries on, "They will want it authentic, I guess. You have to understand, this is our entire lives. Was, anyway. For hundreds upon hundreds of years, waiting for this union. And they have . . ." Lir can't meet his eyes as she murmurs, "Expectations."

"Expectations," he repeats, flatly.

Her entire face is burning now, but she presses on. "For how we'll act around one another, for how affectionate we'll be, particularly during the kiss and in the hours between the wedding and the ceremony." He says nothing, leaving her fumbling. "I thought we could practice."

"Practice what?" 

Lir cannot read his tone, which is why her reply comes out in a whisper. "Kissing one another."

"Uh . . . okay." Lir looks up at him in surprise, and Dante shrugs even as she notices the pink that tinges his neck. "I mean, if you think it will help."

"I just thought if the wedding was our first time kissing, it would be awkward, you know?" she says.

Dante nods vigorously. "Yeah. Yeah I can see that. You want to, uh . . . tell me what you want?"

Lir blinks, debating. She hadn't actually expected him to  _ agree, _ not completely, so she tries to figure out what to do. She slides towards him, kneeling on the couch, and Dante sits up, his arm draped across the back as he leans towards her.

She places her hands on his shoulders, looking into his eyes. "Like this?" she whispers, and presses her lips to his.

Dante is frozen under her, and she counts to three before pulling away. Her heart is pounding despite the brevity of the kiss, and she licks her lips as she glances between his eyes. "Was that okay?"

"Yeah," he answers, his gaze darting to her mouth. "But why not something more . . ."

"More?"

"Yeah. More."

"I don't understand," she murmurs.

He nods, and then she feels one of his hands at the base of her neck, his fingers sliding through her hair and pulling the tie away so it falls around her face. "You should wear it down," he says, "for the ceremony. It looks nice." 

There is  _ something  _ there, in his tone, in his eyes, that she does not recognize, yet it makes her pulse race all the same. "Okay."

Dante smiles faintly, his thumb smoothing over her cheek. "Do you remember what we talked about? Before, when I asked you to marry me for real." Hesitant, she nods, and his other arm curls around her waist, holding her against him. "You make that easy to forget sometimes."

_ Make what easy to forget,  _ she wants to ask, but she can't, because he tugs her back down, sealing his mouth over hers. The grip on her head and her back make her feel safe, and there's the familiar scent of him in her nose, soap and aftershave and a hint of something spicy, like curry, and her heart is in her throat as he kisses her again, and again. Each one is soft, slow, just his lips meeting hers carefully, and Lir tilts her head to make it more comfortable.

The palm on her back pulls her closer so she is halfway laying on top of him as the hand in her hair begins to stroke the locks. The combination is intoxicating, and Lir sighs into his mouth, her hands clenching against his shirt. Dante pulls on her lips and she sinks against him, her hands sliding up to his shoulders.

He pauses, their lips barely touching. "Is this—?"

"Yeah," Lir quickly says. "Can we try it again?"

He lets out a laugh that is half a groan before guiding her back down, and she presses against him eagerly. She has read about this before, both in the books she was allowed and the ones she and her friends would hide, the ones where sex was both wonderful and terrible, but she's never  _ experienced _ it, and she drinks the sensations in almost greedily. His lips are softer than they look, somehow, not unlike the silk from which she's making her dress, and she nibbles on one, and then the other, until he huffs and draws her in to kiss her properly.

Dante sinks into the cushions, and Lir follows eagerly. She tilts her face as she slides her hands into his hair, tugging on the strands as he does the same to her. She can feel the hand on her back move to her hip, and Lir adjusts one leg, lifting her knee to press on his hip to allow him to feel her thigh. He gives a sound that sends a flutter straight through her, and as his mouth opens she dips her tongue inside, sucking in a tight breath when it meets his.

But then Dante responds aggressively, rolling his tongue into her mouth, licking slowly. His hand grips the back of her thigh, his fingers digging into the denim, and Lir starts to touch him in turn, running her fingers along his neck and shoulders and down the wide expanse of his chest. It is overwhelming, but in the most thrilling and delicious way, and every time Dante makes a noise in his throat she feels it reverberate to her core.

She grips his shirt, using it as leverage to close the nonexistent space between them. All she wants is be closer to him, to bask in the warmth that's radiating from him like a furnace. "Dante," she whispers, and doesn't recognize the pitch of her own voice.

He growls against her lips. The world rocks, shifts, and she is on her back, his thigh wedged between hers, his mouth hot and insistent against her own, his body caging hers to the cushions. 

Lir reaches up and presses her palms to his face, the stubble along his jaw scratching her skin. Their lips slant as they deepen the kiss, but when she hears a rip in the leather, it jolts her awake from the kiss. She pulls away, her head hitting the cushion, and they stare at one another in shock. "Sorry, sorry—" he says, practically scrambling off of her.

"No, it was me," she pleads, quickly sitting up. Her eyes fall to the side, heat flushing her face, and she sees the leather of the couch is ripped. Did he do that?"

She glances back and finds him sitting on the edge, sucking in deep breaths. "You okay?" she asks, biting her lip.

"I should be askin' you that." He looks at her, and she thinks there's a flicker of red within his pupils. But it's gone when she leans closer to see. "You alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"What? No! I . . . I enjoyed that." She smiles at him shyly.

"You did?" Dante seems surprised, so she nods with a chuckle.

"Okay," he says, and then grins. He looks utterly charming, and Lir smiles back. "Okay. But maybe we shouldn't do it like that at the wedding."

Lir laughs and shakes her head. "Probably not at  _ that _ ceremony, no."

The statement sobers them both completely, and they look at one another before looking away. The air is awkward now; Lir wishes they could go back two minutes to when she was in his arms, or better ten, before she had asked him for a kiss.

* * *

Lir needs to go to bed. It's late after a busy day, and she's showered and in pajamas already, teeth and hair brushed, clothes put away, shoes neatly placed by the bedroom door. Her room has been tidied and downstairs the dishes are finishing their cycle in the dishwasher, the shop and the city falling into quiet as it slows down for the night.

But she sits on her bed and stares at the wall in a daze. Every time Lir begins a task, she ends up drifting away, feeling Dante's lips on hers, his hands on her, sinking into the leather couch as he covered her body with his strong one and rocked against her. Her heart skips a beat, snapping her out of it, and Lir blushes furiously, chastising herself for drifting away in a daydream again. It's been like this all evening, ever since she cleaned up downstairs and went to her room, desperate for some space so she could figure things out.

It seems foolish to get her hopes up after something as mundane as a  _ kiss,  _ yet Dante had, quite literally, taken her breath away, and those emotions that she tries to ignore are all the louder now. What happened to the girl who scoffed at those silly, passionate books and the unrealistic expectations they set? Her eyes drop to her lap, where an unfinished bit of knitting rests. Once completed, it will become a quilt that sits at the foot of their marital bed, and she had chosen a red yarn as similar to the color of his coat as she could find.

Only now the act of making it is less obligation and more desire. She has come to treasure the sight of his smile and the sound of his laugh; will this earn one of those from him?

Or, perhaps, another of those kisses?

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she mutters, jumping up to shove the knitting into a drawer. She needs to go to bed, get some sleep, and forget about all this. Her feelings will only complicate things, and with the wedding and ceremony in just a few days' time, there is too much to do for distractions.

But before she can climb into bed, Lir knows she won't sleep. A bit of milk will do the trick, she figures, moving to her door to listen. It's been quiet downstairs, so she figures Dante must have gone to bed while she was in the shower. It's almost midnight, so she quietly slips out her door and heads towards the stairs with a glance at his room.

There's no light underneath the bottom of the door, so she breathes a sigh of relief. But when she turns to the top of the steps, Dante is there, and Lir yelps, nearly jumping out of her skin in surprise. "Sorry!" he laughs. "I thought you were asleep!"

"I wasn't . . . What are you doing?" she asks.

"Finishing up that painting. Wanted it to be done for you to see tomorrow. I was just gonna go shower and get to bed myself . . ." His voice drifts off as he rubs the back of his neck, climbing up the last step. "Sorry for scaring you."

"Scaring me?" she echoes. "Why would you think that?"

"Bout hit the roof," he chuckles. "Can't believe you didn't hear me climbing the steps."

"I guess I'm used to you now," Lir replies.

They stare at each other awkwardly. Her face heats up every time she glances his way, thinking about that stupid kiss. Dante is frowning, and she wonders if it's because he's annoyed, or if he feels as strange as she does. She opens her mouth and begins to say, "I was heading downstairs," just as he says, "Is everything okay?" They both laugh, the tension dissolving a tiny bit, and Lir smiles at him.

"Ladies first," he chuckles.

She gestures to the stairs. "I was just going down for a glass of milk. Would you like one?"

"Bit late for milk, isn't it?" 

"It always helps me sleep." Her heart pounds in her chest as she waits for his answer, and that's something else that she has to learn to control: these odd, flaring reactions to his presence, his voice. They'll only make this harder on both of them in the end.

Dante looks her over. "Trouble sleeping?"

Lir swallows. "Yeah. Just can't get comfortable, I think."

He nods. She expects him to say goodnight, but instead he doesn't move out of her way; instead, he leans on the railing. "Is there something I can do to help?"

"Um." Uncertain of how to respond, she only stares at him, and the longer the silence drags the more forced his smile becomes, until it's nearly a grimace. "You could . . . sit with me?"

"Sit, huh?" Dante looks visibly nervous, and Lir curses herself for such a stupid request.

"You don't have to," she says quickly. "I'm really fine."

"No, no, I'll do it, uh . . . Sit, hm?" He glances at his bedroom door. "Let me wash off this paint and I'll come and . . . sit."

He steps around her, and Lir watches him hurry into his room and shut the door. Feeling like an idiot, she goes to the kitchen, keeping all but the light over the stove off as she pulls two mugs out of the cabinet. She decides to opt for hot chocolate instead of the milk, and in a few minutes she is pouring hot water into the mugs over two packets of cocoa mix.

Dante walks in as she tops them both off with a bit of creamer. "Haven't had this since I was a kid," he laughs as she hands him a mug.

He must have showered, because his hair is damp, and his t-shirt clings to his shoulders a bit. Lir feels a bit weak, not really understanding why, but she only nods as she sits next to him at the kitchen table.

She watches nervously as he takes a sip. He pauses with the mug still pressed to his lips, and his eyes widen a fraction before sliding closed as a hum reverberates from his chest. "Damn," he mumbles, "I hate to say that's better than what Mom used to make, but it's pretty close."

Relief fills her, and Lir relaxes against her chair, taking a careful drink from her own cocoa. The silence that descends between them is amiable, comfortable, broken only by the ticking of the clock over the door; it's the little moments like these, where the world is quiet and it feels like it's only the two of them in it, that make it so much harder to ignore the thoughts that have swirled around her lately. Yet, unlike usual, they don't feel foolish or suffocating. Merely there, and she smiles a bit to herself as she studies him, thinking that marrying him won't be so bad.


	9. Chapter 9

Dante frowns at his reflection, adjusting the collar of his shirt as he tries to tug the tie a bit looser. He can't even remember the last time he wore a get-up like this . . . Hell, he might never have worn a suit and everything. He leans in to examine his face, clean of any stubble and pizza sauce, before straightening up so he can smooth his palms down the jacket.

"Hmm," he says to himself. His hair hangs in its typical messy-but-totally-intentional strands, and he wonders if he should gel them back or something. But then he'd look like Vergil, and Dante snorts, wondering what  _ he _ would think of all this—of course, if Vergil was around, he'd be the one about to marry Lir.

"Whatcha laughing at?" Nero asks from the bed, where he is bent over tying his shoes.

"Nothin'." Nero snorts, but doesn't press, and for that, at least, Dante's grateful. Today is going to be enough of a pain without dredging up the kid's trauma—not to mention his own—and any reprieve, however slight, is more than welcome.

He eyes the decanter of whiskey set on the dresser. Lir had sent it up with Nero when the kid arrived, alone with her hopes that he would enjoy it, but he hasn't been able to bring himself to touch the stuff. The last meeting with her family had been disaster enough  _ without  _ alcohol involved; he'd hate to hear their bitchin' if he showed up with liquor on his breath.

"Right." Nero stands, running a hand through his hair, which is far shorter than it was when he and Dante met. "You ready?"

"I don't know," Dante admits. He turns and puts his arms out, glancing down before frowning at Nero. "How do I look?"

Nero laughs and shakes his head. "You want my honest answer?"

"Sure."

"Like you're about to piss yourself," he chuckles. "But grooms are supposed to be, right?"

Dante makes a face. "No? I don't know."

Nero shrugs. "I don't know, you look like a guy who hunts demons and had to put on a suit. So I'd say, you look like yourself."

Dante sighs. "Let's just get this over with."

"That's the spirit," Nero teases, followed by another laugh.

He starts towards the door, still fussing with the tie at his throat, only to be stopped by Nero. Frowning, he tilts his head, and the kid shrugs and reaches up to fix the mess he'd made of the knot. "There," he mutters, stepping back and studying him with a squint. "Least now you look like you know what you're doing."

". . . Thanks," Dante mutters.

Nero nods and moves to open the door, holding it open until Dante has stepped through. Then they descend the stairs towards the main floor, from where the sounds of laughter and excited chatter echo. That makes him feel worse, somehow: so much on Lir's shoulders, forcing her here to marry a jackass with nothing much going on for him, and those people are having fun?

By the time they get to the bottom, Nero is looking at him funny again. "You okay, man?" he asks. "Never seen you that color before."

Dante nods, and they head over to where Morrison is waving at them. The shop has been transformed into a party area, chairs lined up in rows before the little foyer in front of the door, where the two of them will say their vows. He spies Lir's parents trying to get his attention, but Dante ducks down and makes a beeline for Morrison. "Thanks for doing this," he mutters when they reach him. "Can we get started?"

"Just waiting on the bride," he chuckles. "You doing okay? You look pretty pale."

"He's nervous as fuck, that's why," Nero offers.

"Lir's family is here, can you cool it with the swears?" Dante hisses. He nods over to the two dozen or so people who occupy most of the space, chatting excitedly and sending sideways glances towards Lady and Trish. They are the only ones sitting on the groom's side, and Dante grits his teeth to see that  _ neither _ of them are dressed like normal people.

Lady is in the same all-white ensemble she'd worn in Fortuna, while Trish's black corset is drawing more than a few scornful looks, but neither of them seem to care much. At least they aren't all over one another. He has no idea if the conservative values of Lir's family extends to personal relationships and has no desire to find out. He levels an unimpressed stare their way, one that Lady returns with a poisonously sweet smile. 'Don't faint,' she mouths, and he turns back to Morrison with a growl.

"Where's Lir?" he asks lowly.

"Upstairs with Kyrie," Nero answers. "I think a couple of women who might have been her sisters went, too. Something about prepping her for tonight, whatever that means."

"Oh, God," he groans. Dante wipes his brow with the back of his hand, then on his pants. Lir's parents have finally started over, and he considers hitting the fire alarm as he watches them approach.

Her father puts his hand out, which Dante takes weakly. "Very exciting!" Augustus says, nodding to the others. "Are we just about ready?"

"About time, too," Lorenna huffs. "Can't put this off forever." She narrows her eyes at Nero, looking him up and down, frowning when she spies his right arm, partially hidden by his coat. "Who is this?"

"Nero," Dante replies quickly, cutting off whatever profanity was, judging by how sharply Nero scowls, about to come out of his mouth. "He's a business associate. Runs the Fortuna branch of the Devil May Cry."

"Oh!" Lorenna perks up a bit. "Were you familiar with the Order, perhaps?"

Dante watches Nero visibly swallow his anger, and his voice is stiff when he says, "Yeah. I knew 'em."

"Interesting business that was," she says. "You must know a lot about Sparda, being familiar with the Order."

Nero shrugs. "Some I guess? Who knows if he was even real though, right?"

Internally, Dante winces. That was the entirely  _ wrong  _ thing to have said, and he realizes then that he should have warned Nero about how devoted these people are to Sparda as a mythical protector of humanity. Before things can devolve further, Kyrie appears at the bottom of the stairs and hurries over to Morrison.

"She's ready," she announces.

Augustus drags his wife away, who looks as though she has more to say, and Nero snorts. "These people are weird," he says before kissing Kyrie's cheek and watching as she goes to sit next to Lady.

"Yeah," Dante answers. Music starts from somewhere, and Nero frowns at him, grabbing his elbow and positioning him the other way. 

"Stand here," Nero snorts. He looks over Dante's shoulder and nods. "She's coming down the steps, don't you want to look?"

Dante blinks. His palms are damp, the small of his back clammy, and he's  _ nervous,  _ more so than he's ever been before. Makes sense, he supposes; like Nero said, grooms are supposed to be, right? Yet he feels like his body weighs tons as he turns, the world swimming around him in slow motion, and the sight of Lir nearly sends him running.

She's fucking  _ gorgeous,  _ and she's making a terrible mistake.

The dress she wears is the one he knows she's spent weeks carefully sewing, and it fits her like a damn glove, hugging her chest and hips before flaring into a train at her thighs, and her neck and shoulders are left bare. Dainty lace gloves cover her hands, clutching a bouquet of white and red roses, and, while he can't see much of her face due to the veil covering it, he already knows that she's going to be stunning. She already is, every single day, in jeans or a ball gown. Christ, his eyes are burning, and next to him Nero mutters, "You can cry. Most guys do."

"I'm not crying," he hisses, smiling at Lir when she reaches him.

Lir beams up at him through the veil, and holds out her hand to him, which he takes eagerly. "This is exciting, isn't it?" she whispers.

Dante nods, feeling his nerves start to settle as she grins.

"You look very handsome," she murmurs.

He swallows thickly. "Yeah. You look . . . Uh. Well. I've never seen anythin' prettier."

* * *

Dante wrinkles his nose as he knocks back a sip of champagne. The taste is a bit weird, definitely preferring beer, or whiskey. But champagne was needed for the toasts, Lir had insisted, so he sighs as  _ another _ one of her relatives or sisters or friends or whoever this seemingly endless parade of people are gets up to give them another lecture about Sparda and Ler disguised as a toast.

"You okay?" Lir whispers, patting his arm.

"Right as rain," he answers, returning her smile. She sits on his right, their table actually his desk, covered with a long linen cloth.

He feels a nudge on the shoulder. "How much longer is this?" Nero hisses in his ear. "I'm starving and these people are starting to freak me out."

Lir gives him a sheepish, almost embarrassed smile. "I'm sorry, Nero. It should be over soon. They're just waiting for . . . for the sun to go down."

Dante frowns, glancing towards the windows. The sky outside is taking on the burning hues of evening, and the sun is barely touching the roofs of the buildings across the street. "Sunset? Why sunset?"

"Well, it's . . ."

She closes her mouth as a woman with Augustus' dark hair and Lorenna's shrewd eyes approaches. There's a band on her finger with a large diamond set in the center, but that doesn't stop her from eyeing him in a way that feels far too intimate. "Lirael," the woman coos. "Aren't you going to introduce us?"

"You know who he is, Irene." It's the first time he's ever seen something akin to dislike settle on Lir's features, and he wracks his brain at the inkling of familiarity the name brings. "Dante, this is my older sister, third daughter of Augustus and Lorenna, 59th in the line of Ler."

She sticks out her hand, which Dante takes. "Nice to meet you?" he says uncomfortably.

"Mm-hm." She looks around, holding onto his hand so he can't pull away. "This is your place? Not much to it. You'd think the son of Sparda would have something . . ." Her voice trails off as she slowly drags her eyes up and down him. "Bigger," she finishes.

Behind him, Nero makes an odd sort of noise somewhere between a cough and a laugh, and Lir's brow pinches. "Irene," she says, warily.

Irene releases him with a smile and lifts the flute of champagne in her other hand. "A toast to the newly wed couple. May your union be satisfying too all, your joining full of delight."

"Thanks," Dante says, putting his arm around Lir for good measure. "Same to you," he continues, nodding towards the rock on her hand. 

"Oh, this? It's nothing," she laughs. Then her eyes flicker over to Nero. "Another son of Sparda?"

Nero makes a face. "Hell no, I ain't a Sparda. And I'm taken, lady."

"My mistake." She smiles at Lir again, taking a thoughtful sip of her champagne before saying, "Interesting ceremony you have here. Our sister was married on the beach, but an office building is nice too, I suppose. And pizza? You  _ are _ living well."

"Dante likes it," Lir hisses.

"Does he?" One perfectly shaped brow arches. "Well, then I suppose it's alright. Though I must say, sister, I'm very surprised to see how well you've adjusted. What was it you said when you were chosen? That you'd rather die?"

Dante goes cold.  _ She never told me that.  _ But Lir is already lifting her chin. "That was before I knew him."

"I see." Irene taps the rim of her glass against her lips thoughtfully. "Did you know," she says to Dante, "that the only reason Lir was sent was that my engagement was announced two weeks before we learned of your existence?"

"Sounds like you had a lot of reasons to celebrate," he replies. His voice sounds steady, despite how numb his lips feel.  _ Is she still miserable with this? _

"Just think," Irene says, as if he hadn't spoken, "it could be the two of  _ us _ sitting here right now." She laughs and takes another drink from her glass. "That would be interesting, wouldn't it? We wouldn't be eating pizza at a wedding, that's certain."

"Hey, back off." Nero steps up, his voice angry , putting out his left hand as if to keep her away. "Why don't you go find your table and leave them alone?"

She gives a simpering sort of smile before turning on her heel, her hips swaying more than Dante thinks is natural as she saunters back over to her parents. "I'm sorry," Lir murmurs. "She's . . . She wasn't happy to be passed over. I thought that wound would have healed by now, but . . ."

"It's fine." Dante sips his champagne and wrinkles his nose.  _ Too sweet.  _ "Believe me, I understand sibling rivalry just fine."

The speeches finally over, food is served, which seems to settle everyone. Dante is amazed at the dishes served, a combination of pasta dishes that  _ does _ include pizza. He eats his fill as Lir discreetly points out who everyone is among their guests, keeping one eye on the table that sits  _ his _ friends, hoping they don't get too rowdy. He notes how Lir seems to be getting fidgety, and after the caterers take the food away, she seems to be stiff as a board.

Dante spots some of Lir's family getting ready to swarm, so he leans over and murmurs, "Is it, uh . . . time?"

She jumps, but then nods. Dante frowns to see the bit of pinching in the corner of her eyes, but Lir tries to visibly relax. "Yeah. We’re going to need to go upstairs."

"Sounds good." Dante stands, putting his hands up and calling for attention. If Lir is this nervous, it's up to him to take charge, he decides. Least he can do after all this mess. 

Everyone stops talking and looks at him in surprise, and he ignores the whoop that comes from Trish. Lir whispers his name in the silence, but Dante's mind is made up. "Everyone, uh, I guess it's time for me and Lir to do the thing we need to do. So make sure to leave me some pizza, and don't drive if you get too trashed."

The expressions of their guests ranges from surprise to delight, but their stunned reaction to him is made worth it when he hears the little laugh that escapes Lir before she smothers it, and he offers her his hand. She takes it with a smile before addressing the crowd. "Thank you all for being here. I know the road has been . . . strange, but I'm happy, and proud, to be where I am. To be by his side."

He doesn't quite know what to make of that or the knots it sends his stomach into, so he merely nods, moving to rest his palm against the small of her back and guiding her to the stairs. Whispers erupt behind them, easy enough to ignore given his own inner turmoil. Dante is actually looking forward to this, and that makes him feel guilty, which only confuses him. Lir, at least, seems steady, climbing to the second floor with an easy grace.

Dante follows her into his bedroom, and he lets out a surprised noise when they get inside. It's the cleanest he's ever seen it, a completely new bedding set on the bed, fresh flowers placed around on the furniture. He looks around with a smile as he shuts the door, putting his hands on his hips as he takes it all in. "This place looks great," he says. "Did you do this?"

"Some of it." Lir moves to the window to open in a bit, and he watches as she takes a deep breath when the curtain sways a bit. She glances over her shoulder, but when their eyes meet she quickly turns away. "Can you help me with this veil?" she asks. "There's like a million pins in it."

"Sure," he murmurs, shrugging off his jacket as he walks over. Dante tosses it onto the chair in the corner, cleaned off of the pile of dirty clothes and even a new pillow fluffed on the seat, and steps up to Lir as she turns away from him. He frowns for a moment but then finds the first hairpin, pulling it out and tossing it on the top of the bureau. Carefully he works until he takes out a couple dozen and is able to work the comb attached free from her hair.

Lir sighs deeply, reaching up to help him. "My scalp thanks you," she chuckles, tossing the veil to join his jacket on the chair.

On impulse he slides his hands in her hair, giving her scalp a gentle massage, and Dante grins when she gives a little groan. "That's nice, thank you," Lir sighs.

"Mm-hm." The scent of her shampoo wafts gently every time his fingers brush through her hair. It's sweet, light, like the strawberries he loves so much, and he wonders if she'd chosen a new one just for him or if he never noticed it before. "I'd say you've earned it."

"Earned it?" He can  _ hear  _ the confusion, and it's cute enough to make him laugh.

Resting his hands on her shoulders, he carefully presses his thumbs against the nape of her neck. "Yeah. You had to put up with me an' Nero an' all of your family for the entire day. Keep it up, and I'll think you're going for sainthood."

Lir doesn't respond right away, her head dropping as he massages her skin. Then she turns and looks up at him with a shy smile. "You did pretty good too," she says. Then she licks her lips, a little gesture that sends a jolt through him, and she reaches up to undo his tie. "Let's, uh . . . let's get you comfortable, okay?"

"Right." His voice cracks, so he clears his throat and tries again. "Right. Okay. Think you're a bit more, uh . . . I mean, the dress seems . . ."

Her fingers brush his throat as she carefully undoes the knot and pulls the fabric from beneath his collar. "I'm okay," she replies quietly. "It's not the worst thing I've ever worn." Before he can ask what  _ was,  _ she sets to work on the buttons of his shirt; Dante can feel her hands trembling, and he covers them with his own when she reaches the third. 

"Take it easy," he murmurs. "It's just us."

Lir glances up, her cheeks turning a bit pink. "I'm just so scared I'm going to screw this up," she whispers.

Dante can't help but chuckle at that. "Don't worry, I got that covered I think." He pulls her hands away and finishes the buttons on his shirt. "I can do this. Do you need help with your dress?"

She shakes her head, watching him for a moment as he takes off his shirt before glancing away. Lir turns a bit as she reaches back to pull her zipper, and the two undress silently. Dante doesn't take his eyes from her as he takes off his belt and pulls off his shoes, breathing deeply when she lets her dress slide to the floor, leaving her in a white slip, the satin clinging to her body. He is nervous as hell but seeing Lir just as unsure has given him a weird boost of confidence, and before he removes the rest of his clothes, he reaches out and grabs her wrist. "Come here," he murmurs, tugging her gently.

Lir blinks up at him, and Dante leans in, smiling as her eyes widen when he gets closer. Slowly he wraps his arms around her, his skin warming when her palms go to his arms and gently settle against him. "We can do this," Dante says.

She exhales slowly with a nod. "Yes." Her gaze drops to his mouth, and a flush stains her cheeks as she looks away. "I know I don't . . . I mean, it might not be proper or correct, but . . . may I kiss you?"

His mind flashes to her underneath him on the couch, her thighs cradling his body, and he swallows thickly. "If that's what you want."

Like then, her hands cup his face, her thumbs smoothing carefully over his cheeks, and his heart is pounding in his chest as she goes up onto her toes to press her lips to his. It's the same tentative brush she had used the first time, like she's afraid to ask for more, that she's doing something wrong, and he holds her firmly, forcing himself to be patient. If he moves too quickly, he could scare her again, like he had when he'd torn the couch trying to keep himself under control.

His hands fist into the slip, but he holds back, letting her lead the kiss. Lir presses her lips to him twice, three times, and then Dante follows the tilt of her mouth, returning her slow kiss with soft pressure. After several moments she starts to grow bolder, and he feels her tongue flicker against his lips; they curve into a smile as he opens for her, Lir sighing into his mouth.

She hesitates again, and Dante tugs on her lower lip before moving down her jaw and to her throat. He shivers at the little catch in her breath as he leaves a trail of kisses down her neck. "You know I have . . . some things I can do . . ." she whispers.

"You do?" Dante nibbles on her shoulder, kissing along the strap of her slip.

"Yes, I was . . . I was taught how to . . ." He presses his lips under her earlobe, cutting her off as she sucks in another breath. Her fingers dig into the muscle of his arms as she tilts her head, exposing more skin to his kiss. "I'm supposed to be making  _ you _ feel good," she whimpers.

"Mm, think that's supposed to go both ways," he murmurs, more than half-distracted by the softness of her throat. "Ain't fun if only one of us feels good."

"Fun?" she mumbles. She strokes him lightly, sending a shiver up his spine, and he groans and teases her pulse carefully with his teeth. "Oh," Lir breathes, the sound erotic and sweet and making him twitch. "Oh, do that again, please."

Dante complies eagerly. He kisses her neck, teasing her with his tongue as his arm slides around her waist, holding her tightly against him. The other hand moves to her hip, and slowly he walks her backwards towards the bed. "Is it okay if I touch you?" he whispers.

"Y-yes," she stutters.

He drags his palm down her thigh, and then grabs the fabric, pulling it up until he can feel her skin. They hit the edge of the bed, and Lir sits, pulling Dante down on top of her as she slides back to the center of the bed. Their eyes connect as he strokes her thigh, and she moves her touch up his arms and back down his chest, carefully tracing the outlines of his muscles.

"I wasn't lyin' earlier," he says, quietly, and her hands pause on his stomach. "I've never seen anyone prettier than you. Don't think I ever will."

He strokes the crease of her thigh as her gaze softens. Then Lir grabs his arms and tugs. "Sit up on the pillows," she says, quickly scrambling back.

Dante smiles and crawls up on the bed, flopping over with his back propped on the frilly pillows at the head of the bed. "This good?"

"Perfect." He grins as Lir straddles his lap, and then his eyes almost fall out of his head when she pulls the slip off over her head. Underneath is a lace set that is barely more than a triangle between her legs and over her breasts, and Lir reaches back to undo the bra, taking it off and tossing it onto the floor.

She settles back to sit on his hips, and Dante swallows as he takes her in. Her hands press on his stomach to steady herself, and as his gaze hovers around her chest, her nipples soft and pink against creamy skin, his own body starts to rapidly stiffen. Her kiss had already gotten his blood pumping, but his heartbeat is at full speed ahead with Lir now perched nearly naked on top of him, her hair falling over one shoulder as she chews her lip nervously.

Dante clears his throat as she shifts a bit, certain she can feel his erection inside his pants and now pressed against her backside. "I guess I should . . ." she murmurs, her fingers tracing down his stomach and towards the little trail of hair just visible above the waistband of his dress pants.

Still gathering his wits, or what little of them he's ever had, he doesn't realize what she's intending to do until the button is unfastened and the zipper eased down, and, even then, it doesn't  _ really  _ click until her her hand eases beneath the fabric and her touch grazes the base of his cock. Both of them freeze, and what he thinks is alarm flickers briefly across her features. "Oh," she says, then again: "Oh. You're bigger than . . ."

Lir trails off, her cheeks scarlet now, and there's another of those strange boosts to his ego, though it's dulled a bit by concern.  _ She havin' second thoughts?  _ "You okay?"

"Huh? Oh! Yes." She gives her head a little shake. "I'm sorry, I only. I mean, they told us—told  _ me  _ about the anatomy and used props to demonstrate how things could be done, but nothing was . . . as large as you are."

Dante's burst of pride is quickly dampened as she starts to stroke him, her hand exploring his length, but her expression one of confusion. "This isn't . . ." Her voice trails off, and now it's his turn to frown as she yanks down the fabric, his cock springing free as she examines him closely.

"Uh, easy there," he chuckles nervously.

But Lir only stares at him, expression deep in thought. Carefully she wraps her hand around him, and Dante bites back a groan as she slowly drags her fist up and down his length. It's pretty much the most erotic thing he's ever seen—only, really—and her beautiful face and perfect body and delicate hand now jerking him almost experimentally have him gripping the blanket beneath him tightly. Her other hand strokes his pelvis, the touch of her fingertips almost featherlight and in stark contrast to the firm grip she uses to pump up and down his length that is now aching and throbbing.

"Lir," he grunts. She stops, peering up at him from beneath her lashes, and he tries to think of a polite way to tell her that it she wants to have sex she better get a move on because he's not sure he can last with her doing that. But the words won't come, and he curses as her brows furrow.

"Was I doing it wrong?"

"What? No!" He pushes himself up onto his elbows. "Christ, no. Just, uh . . . Seems unfair that you're getting to touch me but I can't touch you."

"Oh!" She giggles, a slight blush creeping over her features. "Sorry, I was distracted."

Her smile is lovely as she leans over him, her free hand pressed to his shoulder as the other continues stroking him. Lir gazes at him sweetly, her long lashes making her look almost sultry, and the mix of innocence and sexiness makes his heart skip a beat. Dante reaches up to feel her thighs, and then slides his hands over her until he carefully covers her breasts. He can feel her nipples grow hard against his palm, and he gives her flesh a gentle squeeze, swallowing a groan at how soft she feels and how small she seems in his large hands.

She bites her lip, and he leans up to kiss the plump flesh, sucking on it softly while he cups her breasts and uses his thumbs to rub small circles over her nipples. The little noise she lets out as she arches into his touch has him panting, rocking up into her hand; nothing could have  _ ever  _ prepared him for the sensation of her body against his, of her skin brushing his. He feels almost drunk, and he releases one hand to drag it down her stomach, groping over her waist and hip just to feel her tremble.

Lir is still stroking him, her hand feeling like a slice of heaven, her skin so soft as it drags up and down his length. Occasionally she pauses to rub her thumb on the tip or tease the head, and Dante groans. He would love nothing more than to take hold of himself and hurry up the end his body is craving, but her touch is so sweet and sexy that he wouldn't stop her for anything. 

She moves closer, his erection now pressed against her thigh, and Dante pulls her down to kiss her eagerly. Lips and tongues slide together as his hands roam her body, and then he tilts her back so he can place a kiss to her breast, using his tongue to roll around her waiting nipple. Lir gives a little gasp that sends a shot of pleasure right through his dick, and he pulls her nipple in his mouth, wanting more. Her hands move into his hair, his cock straining for friction where it presses to her thigh, and when she lifts her hips slightly to press her chest closer to him, he feels the lace drag against the head of his cock, nearly driving him crazy.

"Dante," she murmurs, her nails scratching lightly over his scalp, and it's damn near over right then. Then she asks, shyly, "Should I . . . finish undressing?" and he goes lightheaded at just the  _ thought  _ of it.

"Yeah, yeah," he huffs. "You got me so worked up, angel . . ."

Lir presses a quick kiss to his lips and climbs off, and Dante stares as she stands next to the bed and shimmies out of her panties. When she turns he quickly pulls the rest of his clothes off, grabbing the base of his cock and giving it a squeeze as he closes his eyes and breathes in deeply.  _ Keep it together. Keep it together! _

Warm silk wraps around him, and with a groan he peeks an eye open. Lir is spreading lube along his length, coating him well before she straddles his hips. 

She holds his shoulders and rocks her hips, and Dante hits his head back against the pillows. He watches with widening eyes as she grips his length, and then angles it between her legs. Lir grabs onto his chest for leverage as the head of him parts her folds, and Dante wonders what to do, if he should help, when the first couple of inches enter her body, and his cock is wrapped in the most delicious tight heat he could ever have imagined.

He digs his fingers into the quilt, a faint ping of remorse making itself known when the fabric starts to rip. But it's easy enough to ignore that when the alternatives are either losing control or hurting her or both, and he does his damndest to keep himself still while she works. His thoughts jumble together the more of him she takes:  _ christ she's so small is it gonna fit is she okay oh fuck oh fuck fuck fuck. _

"Dante . . ." she whines, bringing him back from his own overwhelming thoughts. "Dante, I can't . . ."

He sits up, wrapping his arms around her waist, and kisses her. Lir freezes in his hold, her hands on his shoulders, and Dante kisses her as passionately as he knows how, ignoring the insistent throbbing of his cock. He rubs her back in slow circles until after a minute, she begins to relax, sinking further onto him.

"Lir," he groans, pressing his face to her neck. She starts to rock her hips, easing him in and out of her body, but still far from taking him completely inside her own; but it doesn't matter, the movements still erotic and incredible, her sex squeezing him tightly. He remembers the spot below her ear that had her trembling earlier, so he lavishes her skin with his teeth and tongue, letting Lir work at a pace that is comfortable for her but nearly torturous for him.

He's so caught up in keeping her comfortable that he doesn't realize how dangerously close he's getting until his sac starts to tighten, and he pulls from her skin with a stuttered groan, grabbing at her hips even as ecstasy starts to overflow. She lets out a startled noise as his seed fills her in pulses that mimic his hammering heart, going still with her hands braced on his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin with her surprise.

Dante can't take it anymore and he thrusts upwards, another pulsing wave of pure bliss wracking his body, the friction silky as he slowly rocks up and down. He falls back on the pillows as he catches his breath, staring at the ceiling as it finally begins to fade, Lir a comfortable weight on his lap.

Sleep is already tugging at him when she carefully climbs off of him, and he tugs her down next to him with a yawn that makes his jaw crack. Belatedly, he realizes that she probably hadn't gotten off—not that he'd noticed—but her hand is drawing lazy, soothing circles on his chest that only serve to lull him deeper into slumber, and his last bit of awareness is focused on the soft brush of her lips over his shoulder.


	10. Chapter 10

Lir hums to herself a bit as she flips the bacon in the pan, listening for signs that Dante is awake. She had been up since about dawn, laying in bed and watching the sun rise out the window, his arms still around her and holding her close against his body. 

The toast pops from the toaster so Lir piles the bacon onto a plate, quickly moving to crack several eggs into the pan before pulling the slices out carefully. When she turns, Dante is standing in the doorway in nothing but his boxer briefs, and he startles her so badly she yelps and nearly drops the food.

"Hey there!" he laughs, his reflexes like lightning as he jumps to grab the plates.

"Thanks," she says sheepishly, blushing a bit before turning back to the stove.

She listens to him set them on the table, and then his presence is back, hovering just behind her as she eyes the eggs and waits for them to be ready to turn. "Did you sleep well?" she asks.

He hums. "Yeah. Smells good in here."

"You always say that."

"It's true." Lir laughs softly to herself as she plates the eggs, and he insists, "You're a damn good cook. Course I'm gonna say it smells fucking amazing."

She takes the first batch of eggs to the table, Dante trailing after her. "I'm glad to hear it. The least I can do is make sure you're eating properly."

"The place doesn't look too trashed," he comments. "I wonder how long everyone stuck around."

"Not sure," she answers. When she turns, she nearly bumps into him again, and Lir looks up. Dante grins down at her, and she holds her breath, waiting to see what he will do. Will he kiss her? Hold her hand? Or will they go back to the way things were?

Her gaze drags over him, and she spies a red mark just above his right pectoral. Did she do that? Was she really that aggressive? Embarrassment floods her suddenly, setting her cheeks on fire. "Need some help?" he asks.

Lir's eyes dart away as she tries to look anywhere but his chest. "I don't think so," she answers in a tiny voice. "Why don't you sit?"

He hesitates, and her fingers find the edge of the shirt she'd stolen from his dresser and twist it. When she'd gotten up, she'd been sore in a way entirely new to her, and she'd taken a hot shower to relieve some of it and wash the small bit of blood and remnants of his seed from her thighs. While there, she'd noticed faint bruises on her hips, the same size and shape as his fingers, and she'd wondered at not feeling him gripping her so tightly. There were more, near the crease of her thigh, and a dark red mark beneath her ear.

They'd startled her at first, then pleased her. Now, though, as she waits for him to either say something or move, Lir finds herself wishing she'd used make-up to at least cover her neck, because she knows that he's more than likely displeased with how easily it formed. "Sure," he says, his tone unreadable. "Yeah. You, uh . . . You gonna eat?"

"Yes!" Lir spins and moves to the refrigerator, grabbing a pitcher of juice and bringing it to the table before sitting across from him. Dante smiles at her, reaching for toast. She watches him spread jelly on a slice, thinking of how his hands were on her body. Up until now, she had felt confident things went well, beyond happy with the night they shared. There was even a voicemail from her mother, saying how nice things were and to remind her to mop the floors later.

But now, face to face, doubt is filling her by the second, especially since he hasn't  _ said _ anything. 

Something else seems off, and a second later she realizes something is burning. "The eggs!" Lir cries, jumping to her feet and rushing to the pan.

Sure enough, the edges are too dark. In frustration she flips the eggs over, but she must have been too aggressive because every yolk breaks. Lir stares at the burnt eggs with a deep frown, taking a deep breath and willing herself not to cry.

"You okay?" Dante calls over.

She takes a moment to steady her voice. "Yes. I just forgot about the eggs, so they're . . . I'm sorry."

"Hey, no worries. Any egg is a good egg in my book." His cheery voice only serves to make her feel worse, and she nearly tosses the eggs out, only her mother's repeated admonishment never to waste food keeping her from doing so. She takes them to the table instead, wincing when Dante snags four for his plate. "Besides, I like 'em a little crispy."

Lir nods, sinking into her seat. She pushes her food around on her plate, wondering what to say. Her mother's voice is running nonstop in her head, all the instructions from the years, and her chatter in the hours before the wedding the day beforehand:  _ be engaging, don't let him see a mess, everything in its place, a good wife makes a husband happy. _

But is he happy? She peeks up to see him munching away. Maybe, so she should use this time to talk. Yet the only topic on her mind is one she can't bring herself to say. "Did you sleep well?" she finally manages.

"Yeah. I was tired as hell. Passed right out." Then Dante freezes, and she watches with concern as a series of emotions she can't quite make out flash across his face. He sits up stiffly, placing his fork carefully on the edge of the plate. "Did, uh, you?" he asks in return, not meeting her eyes.

She nods. "Yes, thank you. I wasn't awake much longer than you were, and woke up refreshed."

It's a practiced answer, and half a lie. When she  _ had  _ fallen asleep, it had been deep, yes, but the hours after their coupling had passed with her lying awake, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest and taking the liberty of stroking the muscle of his arm without his eyes on her. That's something she doesn't think he needs, or wants, to know—if she tells him, she has no doubt that it would make him uncomfortable, if not outright angry.

"Good." Dante clears his throat. "I've been thinkin' about what happened last night. The, uh, sex. You follow?" When she indicates that she does, he crosses his arms. "It was, uh . . . not exactly what I expected. Not that I expected much," he chuckles, "but still."

"Not . . ." Her voice fades as the blood leaves her face. She looks down, suddenly mortified she is wearing his shirt. Why didn't she put the gown back on? It had been too presumptuous, and she has her own clothes, and she looks ridiculous. Not that the gown would have enticed him at all.

Of course, he doesn't want it either.

"It wasn't . . . what I expected either," she murmurs.

"Right." He clears his throat again. "I'm sorry about that. I guess I got a bit carried away towards the end there. But don't worry. I promise, it won't happen again."

Lir nods. This is to be expected, and she had been foolish enough to hope. Quickly she clears her throat and picks up her fork. "You're right. It can't happen again. We fulfilled the oath, and now we don't have to do that ever again."

She shoves a slice of bacon into her mouth, glancing up when Dante fails to agree with her. He is giving her a strange look that he quickly covers up when she blinks in surprise. "Yeah. No need for that, huh? Probably shouldn't."

"I'm glad we agree." She takes a sip of juice to buy herself time to build up the courage to ask her next question. "Do you want me to return home? I understand if you want your own back, and I'm sure they'll have accommodations for me."

He pauses in buttering a slice of toast. "Do you want to go back?"

"It's not about what I want—"

"Yeah, it is." His gaze is heavy on her face. "You wanna go back, I'm not gonna stop you. You wanna stay, you're welcome to stay. I told you before that I like havin' you around, but I don't own you. You're free to choose."

Lir stares back, her heart fluttering a bit. He has just made it so clear that he wants nothing to do with her, and yet when he talks about her staying, it seems like he actually wants that. "I would like to stay," she whispers. 

"Okay," Dante says. He leans back and rubs his hands on his thighs. "Do you, uh . . . want to move back into your room?"

"I should," she says quietly. "I'll get my things from yours after I clean up down here."

"Alright."

They finish the rest of their breakfast in an unusually terse silence, and Lir more picks at hers than eats; her nerves are frayed, her uncertainty making her stomach churn, and she watches him get up from the table and head to get dressed with no small relief. Once he's out of sight, she presses her hands to her face and allows herself a few seconds to cry and work through her disappointment and hurt. Then she sets about washing the dishes and wiping down the counters and table, making certain the entire kitchen is spotless before she steps foot into the office.

Dante is behind his desk, his feet propped on its surface and a magazine over his face. She knows he's sleeping from his slow, even breathing, and she tiptoes to and up the stairs, holding her breath until she reaches the second floor, where she has more freedom to move around.

Her first stop is his room. Carefully, she strips the sheets, setting the fitted one aside to soak once she sees the spot of blood on it, and then she remakes it with the ones that he likes and hides the frilled pillows and decorative blanket in the back of his closet. Lir trades out his shirt for her slip, and then she takes the dirty linens to the hall, where she leaves them while she makes a second sweep of the room, dusting and looking for anything she might have missed. Her wedding dress, in a heap on the floor, is the only thing, and she takes that to her room and hangs it in the closet, gets dressed, and takes the things from the hall down to the laundry room.

After the washer is going, Lir heads back to the main room. There is nothing to do, as she had kept his schedule clear at his request. Nervously she fusses around, finding a stray cup from the party or a crushed flower, until finally Dante calls her name.

She stops and they stare at one another for a long moment. Is this how it will always be, this awkwardness? She would have thought being naked with their hands and mouths all over each other would have been the ultimate ice breaker . . . and now  _ that _ image is in her head, which she quickly shakes.

"Is that all you're doing today?" he asks.

Confused, Lir looks down at the little bag of trash she holds. "Is . . . that alright?"

"It's just, ya know . . ." Dante shrugs. "It seems weird. We just got . . . well, you were there." He gestures with his hand before continuing, "Most people leave on a honeymoon or something. Never heard of a couple just . . . going back to work after a wedding."

"A honeymoon?" she echoes. Her sisters had each taken one, their husbands carting them off to some exotic locale for a week, and Lir had listened to their gushing after they returned. But she'd never thought of having one herself. "Would you like to?"

"Well, we could—"

He's cut off by the shrill ringing of the phone. Both of them stare at it for several seconds until he grunts and leans forward, snatching it from the hook. "Devil May Cry." His brows furrow as he listens. Then he holds the phone out for her. "It's your mother."

Lir steps forward to take it with a frown. "Mother?"

"Lir! My goodness, you should really teach him the proper way to answer a call." Lorenna sounds breathless, excited, and that sends a sliver of worry through her. "Well, that can wait. You'll never believe what's happened!"

She glances to Dante. "What?"

"Your father was with one of his colleagues—Damien, do you remember him? Well, they got this idea that they should have another look at those records, since you're married now, make sure nothing else was required to keep the seal going. And I told him, I said, don't go rocking the boat, Augustus, Lir's married now, there's no point trying to get her out of it—"

"Mother, please."

"It's true! He was against it from the start. Said we should send Irene, but what would her husband's family say if we broke their engagement?" There's a pause where Lorenna takes in a deep breath. "What was I saying? Oh! So, they went and read over that old contract, and do you know what they found? You don't have to be married at all!"

Her heart sinks to her feet, her fingers going numb where she cradles the phone to her ear. "What?"

"Turns out, it was just a handshake. That's all that was needed, and the seal stays good as new! I'm assuming you've shaken his hand. If not, you can do it now, and we'll look into getting that marriage annulled, assuming you've gone to the courts already. No sense in you being sullied by a demon when there's no need for it."

Her heart feels like it has stopped. Several seconds go by before she hears, "Lir? Lir, are you there?"

"Yes," she whispers.

"Well what do you say? You can come home tonight if—"

"It was nice talking to you, Mother," she quickly says, cutting her off. She hears her protest as she sets the receiver down on the cradle, her hands shaking slightly.

"Everything alright?" Lir looks up sharply at Dante, who stares at her closely. "You look pale. Did she give you shit or something?"

Lir shakes her head. "No. No, it's nothing. She called to tell me . . ." She clears her throat. "Just to say she had a nice time, and that they were on their way back."

She wonders if he'll see the lie in her eyes, but Dante only nods. "Good. Now about this honeymoon . . . we could maybe go away somewhere? For a couple of days?" He shrugs. "Nothing fancy, but . . . I feel like I should do something for you, at least."

"Sure. Why don't you find some places, and we'll look at them together. I think I'm going to finish tidying up."

He studies her for a bit longer before nodding, and she returns to picking up the trash, wondering what the hell she's going to do.

* * *

Dante grins as he carries their bags into the room Kyrie helped him arrange. "Hey, this is nice," he exclaims. 

"Yeah, it is!" Lir smiles as she steps past him. He swells with happiness to see it, the first bit of spark she's shone since they were married a few days before. She had become quieter, almost skittish around him, and he was hoping having a few days would help them get past the awkwardness that had grown huge between them.

Of course, a lack of money and time had been two obstacles, so they ended up in Fortuna. But Kyrie had helped them find a bed and breakfast right on the water, so it seemed nice enough. He wasn't sure what a bed and breakfast was exactly, but he liked sleeping and food so Dante had booked it along with another surprise for Lir.

He watches her flit about the room, opening the curtains and cooing over the view of the ocean, peeking into the bathroom. The only hesitation she shows comes when she peers at the bed, which they'll have to share, but otherwise she seems happy, and that makes him happy in turn. Dante drops their bags onto the bed, laughing quietly when she immediately moves to open them and starts storing their things in the dresser. "You always unpack like this?"

"I haven't been on a vacation before." She smiles at him over her shoulder, and his heart stutters at the sight. "But I think it'd be easier to have our clothes here instead of rummaging through the suitcases, don't you?"

"Sure, sure, yeah." He peers out of the window, wrinkling his nose at the sight of people lounging on the beach. Sometimes, after all that happened with the Order, it's easy to forget that Fortuna is a tourist destination. "Listen, there's something I want to talk to you about."

"What is it?"

"I've got a surprise for you this afternoon. So, if you wanna go to the beach or the boardwalk, we should do that soon."

"A surprise?" She stops what she is doing and looks at him with wide eyes. "What surprise?"

Dante clears his throat. "Uh . . . Well, I guess there isn't any harm in telling you. I got us tickets to that aquarium thing you wanted. We can arrive at—"

He is cut off when Lir lets go a squeal. "Really? Really?! We're going to the aquarium? Dante!" 

She is practically bouncing up and down. "Yeah. You said you wanted to go, right?"

Lir lets go another squeal and nearly launches herself at him, the clothes in her hands scattering as she throws her arms around him. "Dante! I'm so excited! I can't believe you remembered!"

He huffs a laugh as she hugs him tightly. Tentatively he puts her arms around her, the first hug she's given him since their night together. It is an odd feeling, considering Lir was always affectionate without even realizing it, squeezing his arm or fixing his collar or tucking his hair back. He hadn't even noticed it either until she stopped, and Dante smiles as he holds her closely.

She smells sweet and clean, and he presses his nose to her hair, relishing this while it lasts. "Thank you, thank you!" She squeezes him, her face in the crook of his neck, her breath fanning along his skin pleasantly. "Do you think they'll have whales? I really want to see one!"

"No whales, I think. They're too big to keep there. But," he amends, when she sags a bit, "I'm sure they'll have sharks. Maybe even dolphins."

Lir perks right up, drawing away to beam up at him. She's close enough that he could kiss her, and he really,  _ really  _ wants to. But, before he can, she's off, digging through her bag. "I need to get changed. I have this perfect sundress that I've been saving for ages, and I think I brought my wedges . . ."

Lir grabs her things and disappears into the bathroom, leaving Dante to stare after her. He chuckles and fishes out his cell phone, writing a quick text to Nero:  _ Tell Kyrie that Lir loves the room. _

Nero answers back almost immediately:  _ I will! She'll be glad. We still getting dinner later? _

Dante presses his lips together.  _ Maybe. I'll let you know. _

Lir emerges a minute later, wearing a red and white sundress that cinches tight around her chest and flares out, stopping well above the knee. His mouth goes dry as he takes in her bare legs and tiny waist. She looks cute and fun and his mind immediately goes straight to the sinful things he would want to do to her in the cute dress. But Lir doesn't want that, she's made that abundantly clear from the morning after the wedding.

She catches him staring and does a little twirl, laughing as the fabric flares around her thighs before settling back. "What do you think?"

"You look . . ."  _ Fucking amazing.  _ "You look good. D'you want to go now? Tickets are for four o'clock, but there's probably a gift shop we can look in . . ."

"Can we? Please?" Lir looks at him with those pleading amber eyes, and he thinks of that same expression when they'd had sex and has to swallow to clear the lump from his throat.

"Yeah, of course. Just let me, uh . . . Gotta store the weapons, y'know? People probably wouldn't be too pleased about them."

Lir nods, fishing her shoes from her bag as he unbuckles the guns from his back. It's weird to not have to wear them, but the likelihood of him needing them is incredibly low; besides, if anything happens, Fortuna has a devil hunter on-call already. 

He ignores the shape of her legs as she crosses them to buckle her sandals, instead stashing his holster in the closet. They aren't even out the door and she's already driving him nuts, just as she had back at the shop, every interaction so damn awkward even though he wanted nothing more than to pull her close and kiss her senseless. And maybe make up for breaking his promise, and actually make her feel good, unlike their wedding night.

Not that he blames her for freezing him out; the way he acted like an animal didn't help things, or his complete lack of knowing what the hell to do. No wonder she just wants to be friends, and deep down, Dante knows that if that's all she ever wants, he'll be okay with it. Seeing her happy is what is important to him now, not the sex.

But damn, he wishes for that too.

"Ready?" she calls from the door.

"Uh-huh." He puts his sword in the closet, shuts the door, and turns to face her with a grin. She moves towards him, and he holds out his arm, delighted when she takes, more so when she leans against him, resting her head on his bicep. "Hope it's everything you want it to be," he says.

Lir hums, giving him a little squeeze. "It already is."

They head out to the street, walking arm-in-arm towards the harbor where the aquarium is located. It really is a perfect day, the sun sparkling on the water and a nice breeze in the trees. Lir exclaims over the little shops they pass, admiring the cobblestone on the streets and the old fashioned lamps. "I feel like I've gone back in time," she laughs.

"Yeah, Fortuna was kind of stuck for a while," he replies. "But now that the Order is gone, they are modernizing."

Lir glances up at him. "Is it very difficult, remembering your fight here?"

"What? No," Dante scoffs. "It was nothing. And Nero did most of the work. I just ran around shooting things."

"All that violence," she murmurs. He glances down, surprised by the melancholy in her voice, but she gives her head a little shake and points to an ice cream stand by the edge of the beach. "Look! I wonder if they have strawberry sundaes?"

"Do you want to see?"

Her brows furrow. "After the aquarium?"

"Sure."

"Yes!" There's an element of innocence to her joy, and he shifts his arm cautiously from her hold to curl it around her waist, relaxing when she doesn't immediately pull away. Not that it's her fault, but she's drawing more than a few lingering looks, and he's got no desire to spoil this trip for her by knocking the sense out of someone who's got no chance with her, anyway. "Do you think we'll see Nero and Kyrie?"

"About that . . . They actually want to meet up for dinner when we're done. If you want to, that is."

Lir nods eagerly. "That would be fun!"

Dante sighs, a mix of disappointment and relief. It will be easier to keep the awkwardness at bay with the others around, although part of him wishes it could be just the two of them on this trip. He sends Nero a text confirming dinner and receives back a reply:  _ My place at six. _

They find the aquarium easily enough. It's the newest looking building in the area, with a steel replica of a shark's jaw framing the sign  _ Fortuna Aquarium.  _ Lir nearly drags him through the doors, looking around eagerly while a clerk scans their tickets and cheerily bids them to have a good time, pointing out the gift shop just inside the doors. That's where they go first, and Lir disappears quickly among the shelves, Dante following along as she browses the different stuffed animals and bits of jewelry and other novelties, a mixture of joy and regret making his head feel heavy.

_ I really fucked this up. _


	11. Chapter 11

Lir can't stop smiling as she follows Dante through the streets of Fortuna. The aquarium had been everything she dreamed of and more: large tanks full of exotic fish, an open pool where she had been allowed to pet a sea urchin and a turtle—even if the ticklish sensation of the urchin's spines made her squeal—and even a hallway that passed through an exhibit where a shark swam directly overhead. Dante had been more than patient with her when she stopped and stared in wonder, gently pulling her to the side to allow others to pass.

Her hand reaches to her neck, where a charm he'd bought her rests. It's a simple thing, a shark's tooth on a leather thread, but she cherishes it more than anything else she owns, and he'd seemed pleased by how happy she'd been to receive it. Even now, he's more relaxed than he's been in weeks, strolling along with his hands in his pockets, pointing out the different shops and buildings he recognizes.

She's a bit nervous about meeting Nero and Kyrie again, more so meeting their children, but the high of the aquarium makes it easy to shift that into anticipation. Lir has always been good with children, something that came about when she'd been picked to teach weekly classes for reading and writing, and she hopes these will take to her as easily as the ones from her home had.

Their house is small, but cute, a bike sitting on the tiny patch of grass that is their front lawn and a selection of different kinds of balls on the steps. When Dante rings the doorbell there are shouts and footsteps inside, and Lir is shocked when two boys fling the door open. "Dante!" they scream, launching themselves at him.

"Hey boys!" he laughs, catching each one in an arm. Lir chuckles as he swings them upside down, holding them like footballs.

"Can I touch your gun?" one asks.

"No, Nero would kill me."

"How about me? Can I have one?" the other pleads.

"Maybe later. Go tell Nero we're here."

He swings them both upright and they take off, pushing each other as they disappear in the house. Dante turns to her with a grin and Lir laughs. "Is it always like that when you come over?" she asks.

"Pretty much! They'll be askin' for stories all night. Always gotta be careful which ones I tell, or Nero'll scold me about givin' 'em nightmares."

She nods, and then Nero appears in the doorway, eyeing both of them. "Guns?" he asks, and Dante shakes his head. "Sword? Any other sort of weapon?"

"Just my good looks," Dante jokes.

Nero rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Don't hurt yourself stretchin' like that." He steps to the side to allow them to enter. "Come on in. Kyrie's makin' spaghetti."

"It smells delicious," Lir says as she enters, and he smiles at her. "Thank you for having us."

"He treating you okay?" Nero asks suspiciously as he closes the door.

Lir nods, and he leads them back through the house. The boys are in the living room watching television and shooting tiny cars along an elaborate racetrack that takes up most of the floor. "Woah!" Dante exclaims, rubbing his hands together as he plops down with them.

Nero nudges her arm. "Come on with me, you don't have to play too," he says with a laugh.

Lir glances back as he leads her towards the kitchen, smiling to see him listening to the boys excitedly talk as they climb into his lap. She would have never guessed he would be so good with kids, and it really makes her happy . . . but then she realizes that is an incredibly dangerous train of thought and focuses squarely on the back of Nero's head.

In the kitchen, they find Kyrie humming to herself as she stirs a pot on the stove. The room smells of garlic and tomatoes and spices, and Lir breathes it in deeply, her mouth watering; visiting the aquarium had left her with a larger appetite than usual, so she's eager to taste the dinner Kyrie has spent so long on. "Get'cha something to drink?" Nero asks.

Lir nods, moving on instinct towards the stove. "What can I do to help?"

"Sit and relax," Kyrie laughs. "You're our guest."

She pauses, then takes a seat at the small table in the kitchen, where she'll be in easy reach if she's needed. Nero sets a glass of white wine in front of her and settles across from her with a bottle of beer clutched loosely in his hand. "Sorry if this is abrupt," he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "but I wanted to talk to you for a minute without Dante around."

"What about?"

Instead of Nero, it's Kyrie who answers, "He's worried that you might not be happy since this is an arranged marriage. Yes," she adds when Lir inhales sharply, "Nero told me. I'm not one to judge, so don't think that I will. But, having seen how poorly they can go, we both just want to make sure you're alright."

"Yes, it's all wonderful!" she answers immediately, wincing a bit as her voice goes a bit high pitched. Lir clears her throat when they exchange a glance, but she continues on, "Everything is fine. Dante treats me very well, I'm very happy. I'm glad to be here."

"Your family seemed intense," Nero says. He leans against the kitchen counter and folds his arms. "Did they pressure you?"

Lir shrugs, not sure how to answer. "Yes and no. But it was my decision in the end. We needed to do something about the oath, and Dante and I . . ." She sucks in a breath, wanting to avoid that topic altogether. "We figured it was the best solution."

Unfortunately by their expressions, Lir can see her explanation wasn't enough. "What oath?" Kyrie asks just as Nero says, "Best solution?"

"The, uh . . ." Lir shifts uncomfortably. "Sparda and . . . Well, he . . ."

"Sparda," Nero snorts, shaking his head. "At what point are people going to give up all this stupid crap?"

"Nero!" Kyrie scolds. He looks appropriately chagrined, and Kyrie sighs. "Lir, your business is your own. We just want to know you are safe and happy."

Lir nods. "I am."

"Good." Kyrie hands Nero the potholder as he moves to drain the pot. "So . . ." Kyrie says with a wink. "Are we expecting any little ones soon?"

Her heart pounds uncomfortably in her chest. It's an innocent enough question, one she'd heard directed to her friends, who would smile coyly and beat around the bush until all of them were laughing about it. But for her? Is it even possible? She's been regular since she was twelve, but there's no telling if any sort of pregnancy between her and Dante would hold, given that he's half-devil. Yet hadn't Sparda had children just fine, even if it had taken him two thousand years?

"Not yet," she murmurs. "We're still adjusting to this, and children would mean . . ."  _ We'd have to have sex again,  _ she nearly says, but cuts that short. "What about you?"

"Not until after we're married." Nero calls over his shoulder. "Besides, the ones we've got now are more than enough."

As if on cue, there is a crash from the living room, and Nero sighs as he places the pot back on the stove. "What have they done now?" he grumbles as he walks through the kitchen door.

Lir stands as well, but Kyrie just laughs and points to a drawer. "Will you set the table? We're just about ready."

Glad for something to do, she gathers silverware and plates and moves into the dining room on the side. It's a bit cramped, just enough space for six chairs, but Lir can't help but smile to herself as she carefully arranges the place settings, even folding napkins on top in pretty arrangements. This is much more her element, and when Dante swings into the dining room a moment later with one kid on his hip and the other on his back, Nero trailing after, they all stop short. "Wow," Nero says, lifting one of the boys and planting him on a chair.

Lir smiles, and Dante hands off the other kid before walking around to stand next to her. "This looks really nice!" he beams, holding out his hand to help her to a seat.

She looks at his extended palm and swallows thickly before pulling out a chair. "It's no trouble," she says, quickly sitting down.

He gives her a strange look, and she doesn't miss the glance Nero and Kyrie share as they bring the food to the table, and her face burns. After what her mother told her, touching his hand seems too risky; while Lir can't remember if she's done it before, and knows that she probably has—hadn't he helped her up after she'd fallen once?—she's afraid that doing it now, when they've gotten to know each other, will end with her parents taking her away.

"This looks delicious," she says to Kyrie. "Thank you."

Kyrie smiles, though it seems a tad uneasy. "Of course. Dante is like family, and you're included in that now."

Silence descends, broken only by the soft scraping of silverware over plates as they portion out the spaghetti and toasted bread, the two boys intent on eating, and Lir does her best not to sink into her seat.  _ This can be salvaged,  _ she thinks, and she turns to Nero. "Have you lived in Fortuna long?"

He shrugs, grating cheese over his pasta. "My whole life. Grew up in an orphanage for a while. Then Kyrie's dad took me in."

"Childhood sweethearts," Lir murmurs. "That's really sweet."

"Did you have someone before you moved here?" Nero asks.

There is a loud thump under the table followed by Nero's "ow!" Lir jumps, not sure if it was Dante or Kyrie who did it, but she answers, "No, it wasn't exactly encouraged."

"Did you know that my birthday is next week?" the younger boy pipes up.

Relieved for the interruption, Lir shakes her head. "I didn't! Happy birthday! How old will you be?"

He puts up five fingers. "Will you come to the party? Kyrie is making a cake and she promised it would be chocolate."

"That would be very nice," Lir answers.

She catches Dante smiling at her when the other boy asks, "Do you and Dante have babies yet?"

Dante chokes on the mouthful of beer he'd just taken, and her face feels like it's on fire, both from the question and his reaction. "No," she says gently. "We don't. Do you know what that means?"

The boy's nose wrinkles. "You haven't kissed?"

Lir laughs softly. "It means, of course, that you'll get more presents from us on your birthday if you've been a good boy. Have you been a good boy?"

He nods his head eagerly. "Yeah! I can tie my shoes and I'm learnin' how to write and I can spell my name!"

The boys dominate the rest of the conversation, and Lir is happy to ask questions with the occasional interjection from Nero or Kyrie. She can feel Dante's eyes on her though, and at one point swears she feels his hand on her leg, but when she looks down it is gone.

Kyrie offers coffee after dinner, but Lir glances at Dante. "We should get back," she says. "It was a long day, I'm a bit tired. If you don't mind?"

"Of course," Kyrie agrees. "I'm so happy the two of you came to visit, and I know the boys are, too. Nero, will you show them out?"

"Yeah." He stands, jerking his head. "C'mon. Least I can do is make sure you get to the crossroads safely."

Lir and Dante follow him. "This is far enough," Dante says when they're on the porch. Nero turns to him with a frown, and he shrugs. "Kyrie'll need your help with the kids, and I can get us back to our room. No need to worry. Besides, I need to talk to Lir alone."

"Careful out there," Nero says as he nods towards the street. "Demons don't normally come this far towards the water but strange things can happen." He glances at Lir and grins. "Of course, now that the two of you are hitched I guess we don't have to look there for those fuckers, do we?"

Lir sucks in a sharp breath and Dante punches his arm. "Watch the fucking language, kid," he says good-naturedly, then gives a wave as he hops down the steps.

She follows after, ignoring Dante when he holds his hand out to her. Instead she tugs her cardigan closed as they turn down the street. "They are a lovely family," Lir says.

"Yeah. Kid's got it nice now. And it's good that he does. He sure went through enough shit thanks to the Order."

Lir glances at him; his expression is guarded, not quite closed off, and she presses carefully. "What happened then? I know there were demons in the street, and a statue came to life, but the details weren't in the papers."

They pause at a crosswalk, and Dante watches the light. "A cult sprung up around my old man. Called him The Savior, built a church and a statue. Over time, I guess they got powerful enough that Fortuna couldn't do much about 'em. Anyway, they were turnin' themselves into demons, and they opened hell gates all over the city. I took care of those while Nero dealt with them. They'd raised him for years as a sacrifice." He pauses as they start to cross, then adds, "Not so different from you, I guess."

Lir stops, looking up at him in shock and hurt. "I'm not a sacrifice, Dante," she says harshly. 

He looks at her and shrugs. "You know what I mean."

"No I don't! I'm not . . ." She folds her arms and huffs, suddenly and furiously hurt. "I'm not anything."

"You're my wife. That's something." Lir stops on the sidewalk, and he continues on for a few steps before noticing and turning to face her. "I didn't want to push ya. I get it, I'm not the easiest person to talk to, and, honestly, I'm surprised you ain't cut and run yet. But something's buggin' you. Has been ever since yer mother called the shop. I thought comin' here would be nice for you, seein' the aquarium, maybe help you figure it out on your own."

"Dante," she whispers, clinging to herself.

"So, you can tell me, or not."

"Your wife," she murmurs. "Your wife. That's all I am, all I was meant to be."

"That's not what I—"

"Raised as a sacrifice, right?" Her lip trembles as she looks at him angrily. "A wife for you, to cook and clean and take care of the son of Sparda, right? Nothing else, nothing else wanted or needed."

Dante frowns. "What—"

"And you know the worst part about it?" Lir cries, her shouting actually drawing a few looks. Dante glances around, rubbing the back of his neck, just like Nero, and that makes her even angrier. Not caring about who is looking, she shouts, "You don't even care about Sparda! Or Ler, or any of it! It's all just a big dumb joke to you all, but this is my life!"

"Lir," he hisses, stepping closer and bending down. "You might not want to shout the name Sparda in the middle of the street."

"Why not? Let them hear about how useless he was at following through on his promises, or writing them down!" She stares up at him defiantly. "And you know what, Dante? It wasn't even necessary! They got it wrong! All we have to do is shake hands, and it's done, it's over with. So here!" Lir holds out her hand. "Shake and be done with it, and send me home. Just like you've wanted to do since I set foot in your shop."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He grabs her, not by the hand but by the arm, frowning down into her face. "What are you talking about?"

Lir grits her teeth. "We didn't have to marry. They had it wrong. So you'll be sending me back then, right? Well I'll save you the trouble, because I—I'm leaving."

Dante's eyes go wide. He drops his hand and takes a step back. "You're leaving?"

She presses her lips together, not knowing what to say. This isn't at all how she wanted to tell him, or do this—hell, she doesn't want to leave at all. But she is too angry now to back down, and Lir is afraid if she doesn't call her own bluff, she'll never be able to know for certain if Dante wants her, truly wants her. 

"Yes," she answers. "I was going to tell you when we got back, but . . ." Lir looks down so he won't see her eyes get watery. "This is for the best, Dante."

"What the fuck for?" He sounds confused and angry, but, worse, he sounds  _ hurt,  _ and she winces. "You said you didn't want to go back there. You said you wanted to stay."

"That was before."

"Before? Before what? Lir, if this is about us having sex—"

"It's not!" she insists. "It's . . . You always told me that you weren't the marrying type, and you didn't even want to do this until my parents showed up. Even then, it was just an obligation, so we don't have to . . . We don't have to keep doing this. I'll go home, and you can go back to the life you like without me in the way."

Dante shakes his head. "But Lir, I . . ."

"I should go back," she says, as if trying to convince herself. "I know you had this vacation planned, and the room . . . You can stay and I'll take the train back."

To her surprise, he reaches out and cradles her face in his hands. Lir blinks up at him, her heart pounding as he strokes her cheeks with his thumbs. She sinks into his touch, daring to hope that he will ask her to stay. As he steps closer, his face inching towards her, she imagines he will kiss her, and tell her he wants her, and all of this will be okay.

"There's no trains this late," he says instead. "Come back to the room and stay the night. I'll take you back to the shop in the morning."

Miserably, she nods, and they finish the walk back to the hotel in a heavy, oppressive silence. The fact that there's only one bed—something she'd barely noticed before—sends a fresh wave of tears to her eyes, which she does her best swallow. The last thing she wants after making such a mess of things is to cause Dante any more discomfort, particularly on her account.

Dante glances between her and the bed. "I'll take the floor," he offers gruffly. "You'll need sleep if you're goin' home tomorrow."

"No, no it's fine—"

He doesn't answer, just disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. Lir uses the opportunity to quickly change, pulling on a nightgown and stashing her clothes. She should pack, but Lir can't bring herself to do it, and when Dante finally emerges she rushes in for some peace so she can get herself together.

She brushes her teeth and washes her face, taking as much time as she can, not wanting to face him yet. When she has used up as much time as she thinks she can without him coming to find her, Lir turns off the light and opens the door.

Thankfully the room is dark, but when she makes her way to the bed she is surprised to find Dante on one side. Lir slips into the other, and without turning he mumbles, "Are you sure this is alright?"

"It's for the best," she answers uncertainly.

He huffs a humorless little laugh. "Best for who? You want to go back, that's one thing, but don't say it's for me. I already told you, I like havin' you around. Don't know how many times I have to say it before you believe it."

Lir rolls to her side and looks out the window. The lights of the city make the harbor glitter a bit, and suddenly she is homesick for her own seaside town. But the feeling is unwanted, mixing with wanting Red Grave, and the Devil May Cry, and Dante. He likes having her around . . . but that feels worse somehow.

"I'm sorry I lied to you," she whispers.

"Figured she told you something when I saw your face after you hung up," he mutters. "Just don't do it again."

"Not just about that." Lir feels him shift, the bed dipping and sheets twisting as he rolls over, and she wonders if he's facing her, if she should do the same. "I don't want to go back. There's just . . . I feel so guilty about staying. Your whole life was upended over something that could have taken five seconds, you've had to deal with me and my family. It doesn't seem right to ask to stay after all of this."

She can practically hear him thinking, the subtle bob of his throat and the way he exhales slowly when deeply considering something. It's one of the things about him Lir didn't know she knew until she knew it, like how he likes his socks folded and that he likes peanut butter on top of jelly, not the other way around. She listens to him breathe and think and she thinks of more, like how he slouches when he's paying attention but sits forward when he's tired, how he dusts the picture on his desk every day without fail, how he purposefully leaves her snacks on the bottom shelves where she can reach. Her chest grows tight as she thinks about all the things she's learned about Dante, and how much more she wants to learn, but now she might not get the chance.

"I ain't chasing you, Lir," he murmurs. "If you want to go, if you feel that strongly about it, then you can go. I've said what I needed to say. Sleep on it tonight and you can decide in the morning."

She hears him shift again, rolling over, and Lir looks out the window. He's said his peace, except for the three words she's wanted to hear most.


	12. Chapter 12

Lir opens her eyes to the sun streaming in the window. It's brighter than she is used to, and once her vision adjusts she realizes it is because of the reflection against the water. She stretches a bit, lifting her head to get a better view, when she feels something heavy on her hip.

Looking over, she sees that Dante has moved to lay against her, his arm hanging over her waist. Lir holds her breath for a moment, not knowing what to do, until she carefully rolls to her back. Dante mumbles a bit and buries his face into the pillow, his hand dragging over her stomach. It almost tickles, making her bite her lip to hold in a laugh.

"Dante?" she murmurs. She glances at the clock on the bedside table, seeing it is midmorning, much later than she is normally up. "Dante . . ."

He grunts, his brow pinching, and she studies him. Dante seems so peaceful now, despite his sleep-mussed hair, a far cry from last night, and she bites her lip as she reaches out to carefully trace the strong curve of his bicep. All she had wanted was to hear three little words, no matter how silly that desire might have been. Might still be, because she knows that if he woke up and said them, she'd stay in a heartbeat, for more of these little moments, for waking up next to him and watching him drowse in the morning sun.

But he hadn't said them, and that tells her all she needs to know.

It'll be best to go back. The seal is safe, she has done her duty, so her family will welcome her, even try to set up a proper match for her with some son of one of their friends. She can return to her life of relative peace and quiet, continuing on the line of Ler like she was always meant to. Or, perhaps, they'll give her a place of her own and keep the marriage with Dante intact, in case the seal begins to waver once more. Either way, she'll be cared for, and safe from these emotions she has no right to feel.

She closes her eyes, taking the opportunity to doze a bit until Dante's cell phone rings and startles them both. He groans and reaches his hand to fumble for the phone on the table, his other still pressed to her hip. Lir sits up on her elbows to watch as he presses a button and grunts into the receiver, his head hitting the pillow again.

She can hear a voice on the other end before he says, "No, forget it, call Lady." Lir's brows go up when she hears the voice get louder but Dante swipes the phone and drops it on the mattress before pressing his head face first into the pillow.

She moves to get up, deciding now is better than never, only for his arm to snake around her waist and pull her back to him. "Five more minutes," he mumbles, giving her a squeeze, and she stares at the ceiling, wondering why he's being so nice after the things she told him.

"Was that Morrision?" she asks.

"Mm-hm."

"Do you need to go back?"

"Nah. Lady'll handle it." He yawns, turning his head to peer at her blearily. "You made up your mind to go, huh?"

Lir takes a deep breath. "I'll be right back," she says, slipping out from under his arm and heading into the bathroom.

A shower clears her head, and Lir stares at herself in the mirror as she combs her hair. "This is for the best," she tells herself. "Even Dante said I deserve to be with someone who . . ." She presses her lips together, feeling foolish suddenly. 

When she returns to the bedroom, her robe tightly cinched, Dante is sitting on the edge of the bed, texting someone. "Everything alright?" she asks.

He looks up and quickly stashes the phone. "Yeah. Just checking in." He clears his throat and stands, dressed only in his boxers. Lir glances away as he asks, "Did you make up your mind then?"

"I . . ."  _ Yes. I'm going home. I think it might hurt now because we know each other so well, but it'll pass, no different than anything.  _ "I think . . ." Why is this so difficult? Lir knows what she needs to say, and she knows that she needs to pack and get a train ticket so she can gather what few things she has from the shop, but he's watching her with that same guarded expression from the night before and she can't get the words out.

"You think?" he prompts. "Doesn't sound like a decision, if I'm honest."

Lir takes a deep breath and steps towards him. "I don't want to be a sacrifice, Dante," she says quietly. "I don't want to just be the wife of Sparda. I thought I did, but  _ you _ taught me that I could be more than that."

She risks a glance, and the surprise on his face spurs her on. "The truth is, if I had never heard that the texts were wrong, then I would have found happiness with you, despite how you . . . Well, you didn't want this either. We fulfilled the oath and kept the seals closed. If there was more between us, I mean if you felt . . ."

His eyes are intense on her, and Lir feels her mouth go dry. "We didn't though, did we?" Dante chuckles. "We never shook hands."

"Oh." Lir steps up and holds her hand out. "It was very nice to have met you, Dante," she says quietly.

She watches as he considers her, then to her relief he takes her hand. He gives it a squeeze, the handshake brief, but before she can draw away Dante says, "You have it all wrong, though."

"What do you mean?" Lir frowns.

Dante lifts her hand to press a kiss to her fingers. "There is more between us. I know you feel it too."

She goes very still as his lips press again to the back of her hand. "What are you saying?" she asks.

"I'm not a poet, Lir." His other hand slides against her back and nudges her forward until her arm is pinned between them and she's forced to look up at him. "I don't have any pretty words. If you want the truth of it, I'd noticed long before your folks came by. Couldn't get you out of my head. I'd be sittin' at the desk, and thinking of you, or in the shower, or tryin' to sleep."

She swallows thickly to clear her throat. "I don't understand."

He shrugs. "You made my life better. Made  _ me  _ better. I told you I wouldn't chase you, and I won't. If goin' back makes you happy, then I'll let you, even though I've half a mind to lock you in the shop so you can't."

Her hand curls against his chest. She wishes she could get some space, breathe a bit and understand what he's saying, but it feels too good to touch him like this. "I . . ." she whispers as hot tears rise.

"What do you want, Lir?" he asks. Dante kisses her wrist, sighing against it. "Just tell me."

"I want to be loved," she replies.

Dante pauses for a brief moment before he grins against her skin. "Well, that's something I can do." He kisses along her arm, and she watches in half amusement and half confusion as he pushes her sleeve up. When he can't go any further, he tilts to kiss her cheek, then her temple. 

"I'm not kidding, Dante," Lir says.

He grins and yanks her against him before pressing his mouth to hers. The kiss is firm, but somewhat chaste, and Lir holds her breath as he massages his lips against hers for several long moments before he pulls away. "Neither am I," he chuckles. "I love you."

"What?" She stares at him, wondering if she's still asleep. It's too much like a movie, minus the sobbing and screaming, so perhaps she did fall back asleep after Morrison called. "You . . . Huh?"

He tilts his head with a smile. "You gonna make me say it again?"

"Can you pinch me first?"

With a snort, he does, and she yelps at the sting. "There. I told you before we got hitched that you made it easy to forget that love ain't for me. Not because I don't want it, because of what I am, what I do. Now, though . . . Well, I love you. That's all I've got."

A million questions roll through her mind, too fast to even process. Instead of choosing one she blinks at him until Dante says, "Is that enough?"

"Yeah," she laughs. "Fuck, I love you too."

His brows shoot up in surprise, and then Dante laughs as he smothers her again with a kiss. Lir wraps her arms around his neck as his arms go tight around her waist, nearly lifting her off her toes. His mouth is hot and hungry on hers, leaving her breathless, her heart pounding when he bites her lip. "Say it like that again," he says.

"Fuck, I love you," she giggles.

Dante growls as he kisses her again. Lir clings to him as he walks her backward to the bed, and a moment later she sinks into the mattress as he leans over her. The bulk of him is nearly suffocating, but she clings to his back to keep him close, unwilling to let him go. Their mouths twist and slide together, almost frantically, until his hands yank open her robe and slide inside.

He groans as his palms drag along her body, pushing her legs apart before covering her breasts. Lir lets out her own moan, shrugging out of the robe, when his phone rings again.

Dante lets go a stream of curses that make her cover her mouth with her hand as he grabs the cell phone. "What?" he shouts, and then a moment later, "Don't call me again. I'm trying to fuck my wife over here!"

He presses the red button and throws the phone across the room, where it lands with a thud on the floor. Her eyes are wide when he looks back at her, and she bites back a shriek of laughter, her hand still clamped tightly to her mouth.

His grin this time is slow and more than a little predatory as he leans over her, bracing his palms on either side of your head. "Think that's funny, darlin'?" The endearment makes her blush, and she shakes her head quickly, tears of mirth pricking at her eyes. "Really? 'Cause you look pretty tickled to me."

Lir manages to get her giggles under control. She reaches for him, carding her fingers through his hair and urging his mouth down. "Shut up and fuck your wife, Dante."

He lets out a groan as he kisses her like a man dying of thirst, his tongue rolling over hers. She's breathless by the time he draws away to mouth at her neck, and only the press of his thigh between her legs draws her from her daze. "Don't know when you started swearin'," he mumbles against her throat, "but it's hot."

"Too much time with you," she sighs, prodding him with her foot.

He laughs again as he kisses down her body, his mouth dragging over her breasts. His lips and tongue seek her nipple, drawing it into a stiff peak before going to the other, and Lir is arching her back and gasping by the time he finishes. "Mm," he hums along her stomach, his facial hair tickling her skin.

She sighs and turns her head, watching him leave kisses down her abdomen. Her core tightens with every press of his mouth, something inside her almost jerking with pleasure, her core throbbing. Sighing his name, she strokes her fingers in his hair as he kisses her hip, and then Lir bites her lip when he pushes her knees wide apart.

His gaze flicks up to her. "Haven't done this before, so I'm gonna need some pointers."

"Haven't done—oh . . ." Her head falls back against the pillows when he kisses her sex, his tongue dragging slowly over her slit. It's like nothing she's ever experienced before, so wildly different from the few times she'd touched herself that she isn't sure what to make of it at first. Weird, certainly, but also  _ good,  _ and when he braces one hand on her stomach, she covers it with her own and gives an encouraging squeeze. "I think, um . . ."

"Hm?"

Blushing furiously, she reaches down to part her folds, sliding her fingers up to expose her clit, and she wants to curl up in embarrassment when his eyes focus on her there. "If you, um. It always feels best when I touch here, so. Uh."

"Touch yourself, huh?" His voice is teasing, and her face goes hot, but he presses a kiss just above her mound. "You gotta show me later."

Lir bites her lip, but then his tongue presses to her bud and it is heaven. Slowly he laps at her, the wet, soft sensations driving her mad with pleasure. She cries out over and over, her nails digging into her hands, but she can feel his breath picking up as he works his tongue against her. Finally he presses it flat on her clit and strokes it, and Lir rocks back, grinding against the sensation until her head spins.

His body shifts between her legs, and she cries out when he slides a finger into her core, his answering groan vibrating against her flesh and winding the coil in her stomach so tight that she can barely breathe, let alone think. All she knows is his mouth on her clit and his finger thrusting in and out, stroking a place she can never quite reach on her own, and her back bows from the bed when the first rush of ecstasy hits her. Her mouth opens in a silent scream as it slams into her again and again, almost violent compared to the soft waves of the orgasms she's given herself.

Lir tugs on his hair sharply, thrusting her hips up towards his mouth. Dante makes a noise that buzzes against her labia, sending another jolt of pleasure through her. He licks her quickly, placing kiss after kiss on her sex until she finally goes limp, letting go of his hair. "Sorry, sorry," she pants, staring at the ceiling in shock.

Dante comes into view, an amused look on his face. "Sorry for what? That was sexy as hell."

"Did I hurt you?" she pants. "I was pulling your hair."

He laughs and shrugs. "I've had way worse."

She nods. His body blankets hers as he kisses her neck, his hands pressed to the small of her back to hold her flush against him. It's soothing, and as the trembling in her legs begins to subside, she lifts one to slot him more comfortably between her thighs. "Do you . . . want me to do that for you, too?" He lifts his head, blinking at her, and she bites her lip. "I was . . . I mean, I know how, in theory, but I haven't tried on a live person before, and . . ."

Dante closes his eyes, his expression pained. "Not, uh . . . Not this time. I already made a fool of myself once with you, and I'll do it again if you, uh, suck me off."

"A what?" she asks, or tries to, but he cuts her off with another kiss. Dante crawls up between her legs, massaging one thigh as he leans against his other forearm, and Lir feels his erection pressed against her leg. She smiles, reaching between them to take hold of his cock, and when he groans she pumps her hand slowly a few times before guiding him towards her body.

"Are you sure?" he murmurs against her lips.

Lir nods. "I want you."

He pulls away just enough to study her for a moment, and she waits, her pulse in her ears. "Lemme know if I hurt you," he says quietly. She thinks back to their first time, barely able to take half of him in until his seed had slicked both of them up, and exhales slowly.

"You won't," she replies.

Dante keeps his eyes on hers as he presses forward, and she gasps as the blunt head of him penetrates her. It's a sensation that's as strange as it is wonderful, feeling her body open to accommodate him, stretching around his girth, and she whimpers when he rocks his hips, carefully sliding the first few inches in and out. "Fuck, you're so tight."

Lir runs her hands over his shoulders, her head falling back as he works himself inside of her. Now that he is in charge and setting the pace, she focuses on the way his cock feels, watching his face drawn in concentration and admiring the way his body looks, tense and hot under her touch. She scrapes her nails down his chest, dragging through the hair there, and when he gives a low groan she drags them lower, stroking his stomach.

"Oh, fuck, fuck," he pants, pressing his face to her shoulder.

Even though she is underneath him, she feels powerful, and desired, and she reaches around him to grab his backside and squeeze. "Fuck me, Dante," she whispers in his ear.

He turns his head, his lips capturing hers in a sloppy kiss that is more teeth and tongue, and she moans into his mouth when his hips finally press to her thighs. It's not quite painful, a little uncomfortable at most, but drowning that out is the rush of pleasure at having been able to take him fully without any hurt at all, and she basks in that while he kisses her over and over again as her body adjusts. "You good?" he murmurs.

"Yeah," she breathes. "You?"

He snorts, nudging her cheek with his nose. "Fucking perfect. No where else I'd rather be. In fact, I think I might—"

_ "Dante." _

"Right." He moves slowly, short pumps of his hips that keep his cock buried deeply inside her. The friction strokes her core in a way that has her aching, throbbing for more, and when he tilts her hips up his pelvis grinds against her clit, bringing a new flush of arousal. It's pure bliss, her little groans with each movement swallowed by his kisses as he drives her towards another orgasm.

"Lir," he groans. His thrusts grow quicker, rougher, until the sound of their skin slapping fills the room along with their moans. It's just like it was last time, and she drags his face to her neck, keening when he bites down just enough for her to feel the pricking of his teeth. "Lir, fuck, I'm gonna—"

"Together," she gasps.

His grunts turn to a whimper as he grabs her hips, rocking faster and faster. She draws her knees apart and moans at the way his body grinds against her, solid and hard as a rock. "Dante!" Lir cries out.

She grabs his shoulders as it hits, throwing her head back. The orgasm is deep, rocking to her core, and she feels the flood of his seed a second later. It makes his movements silky, his cock sliding in and out easily as he fucks her through the pulsing bliss. Their cries mingle between panting kisses until finally he drives in one last time, holding her body tightly.

In the aftermath, Dante rolls onto his side, pulling her with him, and she sighs and tucks her head beneath his chin, listening to the pounding of his heart and smiling to know he's as affected as she is. "Dante," she begins, "we'll have to call my—"

A crash of thunder interrupts her. It shakes the room, deafening in its ferocity, and Dante pulls from her with a shout, his hand pulling a gun from beneath the pillow. Both of them stare out of the window, and Lir can only gape at the roiling see and lashing rain; had she been so caught up in him that she'd somehow missed the storm brewing outsides? Waves crash against the shore, sending beachgoers scurrying under their umbrellas, and Lir reaches for Dante's hand, reassured when he squeezes her fingers.

Then, as quickly as it came, the storm passes.

It's nearly comical to watch the sea settle into its leisure, the dark sky brightening within seconds. The two of them blink at one another, and then Dante hoots out a laugh that has her giggling, too. "Well, whaddya know? Guess ol' Ler's finally satisfied about that promise of his."

"It's strange," she agrees. "I wonder what it actually was? The handshake? Sex?"

Dante shrugs. "Who knows? I've met plenty of would-be gods, and none of them made any damn sense, either."

Lir smiles and reaches for him. Dante stashes the gun on the table and moves into her arms, folding her up and pressing a kiss to her cheek. "You should check in with Morrison, see if he's okay," she murmurs.

"Yeah, I should," Dante mumbles, continuing to kiss her down the side of her neck.

She lays quietly for a moment, enjoying his attention before asking, "Who were you texting when I came back in the room?"

"Hm? Oh." Dante props himself up rather sheepishly as he looks down at her, mouth twisting. "It was . . . well, Nero. He was kind of giving me a uh, a pep talk."

Lir chuckles, rubbing his arm. "That is sweet."

"I was too nervous," he admits. "I mean, the first night was so bad, and then—"

"It was bad?" she squeaks. Her eyes go wide as Dante frowns. "I figured it must have been something like that. I'm sorry."

"No, not for me, for you," he insists. "I didn't, uh . . . well, I had all the fun, so to speak." Lir blinks at him, and he lets out a loud sigh. "I didn't take care of ya like I should have. So I thought you thought, well, I don't know what I thought you thought but I thought you thought something."

Lir bursts out laughing, covering her face as his lips curl into a smile. "Dante," she sighs affectionately, stroking his cheek.

He plants a kiss on her palm. "Hope you didn't have any plans today," he murmurs. "Because I'm going to make up for that night about twelve times."

"Twelve!" she exclaims as he rolls them over.


	13. Chapter 13

Dante makes good on his promise. They don't leave the bed for the rest of the day, other to eat and shower, and even that's done together. He'd never thought that having someone else wash his hair would be so  _ pleasant,  _ but with the little massage she'd given his scalp, he certainly wasn't complaining, and he's almost sad to bid farewell to the little bed and breakfast the next morning. Lir keeps her hand in his while they head to the station and on the train ride home, leaning on his shoulder when she's not busy watching the scenery pass the window; watching her, he realizes two things. One, he's the happiest he can remember being.

And, two, he's got it  _ bad. _

They reach the Devil May Cry around noon. There's an unfamiliar car parked on the curb, but that, in itself, isn't unusual. He's more than accustomed to having people in and out, and he's half-expecting to walk in and see Trish, given her penchant for taking vehicles that interest her, whether she pays for them or not. Her habit of "borrowing" has caused problems before, so he readies himself for a little scolding and a reminder that she can't just steal some poor schmuck's car, yet Lir pauses on the sidewalk, staring at it with furrowed brows.

"You good?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "That's my father's car. It's just . . . He never drives anywhere unless it's important."

"Did you . . ." He frowns. "I'm not upset, but did you tell them you were thinking of leaving?"

"No, I didn't tell anyone." Lir takes a deep breath. "Let's see what they want."

Sure enough, her parents are inside. Her mother sits on the couch while her father admires the weapons hanging on the wall, and when Dante helps Lir inside Lorenna jumps to her feet. "There you are! Oh, I was so worried!"

She runs to Lir and pulls her into a hug, kissing her cheek as she rocks her tightly. "Where have you been? I've been  _ so worried!  _ You don't answer your messages or call me and I even got one of those app things and you don't even do that!" He frowns as she lets go of a shocked Lir and narrows her eyes at him. "You, so-called devil man, whatever you are. Do you not let my daughter speak to her own mother?"

"What are you talking about?" Dante snaps.

Lorenna opens her mouth to argue again when Lir interrupts her. "Mother, what is the problem? We went away for a couple of days, that's all."

"That's all! My daughter is out running around with a demon instead of coming home like she's supposed to do, and you ask me what the problem is!"

"He's not a demon, he's my husband," Lir says through gritted teeth.

Her mother huffs. "Well not for much longer. We have the papers for annulment, and your father can arrange for another marriage right away. We can pretend this whole thing didn't happen, isn't that wonderful?"

"No." Dante steps forward and puts his hand on Lir's arm, tugging her towards him. "Lir's not going anywhere.”

Lorenna laughs. "Well, that's hardly for you to decide! The vow has been fulfilled, freeing Lirael of whatever hold you've gotten over her. She's going to come home, where she'll marry someone more suitable for her station instead of a  _ demon  _ like you. Now, Lir, come along with me so we can pack. Your father and I have picked the perfect husband for you—"

"No." It's the first time he's heard Lir's voice so firm, so cold, and it must startle her parents as much as it does him. Augustus turns, his brows raised, while Lorenna's mouth hangs open. "Dante is right. I'm not leaving. Like it or not, I'm married to him—something  _ you  _ decided on. The only thing you didn't plan for is that I would love him, which I do. I'm quite happy here, and I have no intentions of going anywhere."

"Nonsense!" Her mother puffs up, jabbing a finger in his chest, and Dante grits his teeth. "I demand you release whatever spell you've cast on my daughter this instant! No child of mine would willingly sully herself like this! And you!" She turns to Lir furiously. "What do you suppose the neighbors would say to hear of this? You're coming with us, and that's final!"

Lir places a hand on his arm; glancing down, he's surprised to find her smiling. "Of course," she replies quietly. "The fact that I'm in a marriage that I enjoy, with a man—yes, mother, a  _ man— _ is something you wouldn't understand, because it doesn't come with your approval. Unfortunately, I have no need for that. No matter what you say, what threats you make, I'm staying right here."

Lorenna's face goes white with anger. Turning, she shouts. "Augustus! Talk sense into your daughter! Ler only knows that she'd listen to you over her own mother."

Augustus studies Dante thoughtfully. "Do you love her in return?"

"Yeah," Dante replies simply.

Augustus smiles. "So that settles it! Looks like all is well." He holds out his arm to his wife. "Come along, Lorenna, let's leave the newlyweds alone."

Dante smiles as Lorenna goes almost purple. "Newlyweds! My daughter is the child of Ler and—"

"Mother!" 

She nearly chokes on her words as Lir's voice takes on a hardness Dante had never imagined. His eyes widen a bit as he feels something crackling in the air: not the same sort of tug as when there is a demon nearby, but some kind of magic, as her eyes flash like lightning. "Go. Home."

Her mother still does not move, and Augusts takes her gently by the shoulder. "Let us leave in peace, Lorenna, before our daughter wishes to have nothing else to do with us. I understand this is a shock to you, but as long as Lirael is safe and happy, we have no reason to complain."

Lorenna nods, seeming in a daze, and he leads her to the door, pausing on the threshold. "Dante," he says. "I don't have to tell you how this could end. It's possible others will make their displeasure known, and, as Lirael's father, I am relying on you to protect her. Can I trust you with that?"

"Hey, I'm married now," Dante jokes. "I gotta do what she says."

Lir elbows him in the ribs, but Augustus chuckles as he leads Lorenna towards the door. Once it is closed, he breathes a huge sigh of relief, watching as Lir steps over to lock it behind them.

"I'm sorry about that," she says, looking back over her shoulder. "I don't know why I thought they would leave us in peace."

Dante snorts. "Hey, come here." He holds out his arms and she moves towards him, wrapping her own around his waist as he curls his around her shoulders. He pops a kiss on the top of her head and says, "So, what should we do now?"

She peers up at him with a warm smile. "Do you have any jobs today?"

"Nah, schedule's clear."

"Then I know exactly what we should do." Her hands play with the buttons of his shirt, her expression turning coy. "You're wearing too many clothes, though."

"Oh,  _ fuck  _ yeah."

* * *

A few hours later, Dante snoozes in bed, his head resting comfortably on Lir's stomach. For such a tiny girl, she is certainly comfortable, especially with the way her fingers brush through his hair. "I think I'm getting better at that," he murmurs.

He smiles when he feels her giggle. "Yes, you are."

Dante strokes her hip, smirking a bit. "I better keep practicing. Don't want you to use that voice on me, the one you used on your mom." He chuckles at his own joke, but he senses how she tenses and her fingers pause in the locks hanging down the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I know that was unsightly."

He lifts his head to look at her, climbing up until they're eye-to-eye. "Nah. If I'm honest, it was pretty hot. I knew you could use magic, but that was badass." Lir smiles, though it seems a touch uncertain, and he dips down to kiss the corner of her mouth. "Besides, I've got some unsightly parts to me, too."

“I’m looking forward to seeing them,” Lir sighs.

Dante sits up and gives her a little frown. “I don’t wanna harp on it after this, so I’m gonna ask one more time. You sure?” 

Lir raises her eyebrows. “I just want you to know,” he hurries on, “I can’t give you much. You know I’m broke, I don’t have . . . Well, anything really. I can’t promise you anything more than a few slices of pizza and this run-down shop. I can’t promise that demons aren’t gonna show up looking for me or raise a tower out of the ground or that I’ll come back from a job with all my fingers. I can’t promise . . .”

She cuts him off by pressing her lips to his, and Dante sinks against her as her arms slide around his neck. “Maybe not,” she answers. “But you know what you can promise me?”

“What’s that?” he murmurs.

“Forever.”

Lir blinks up at him, and Dante grins. “Just forever, huh? I think I can handle that.” She giggles as he moves over her again, sealing the promise with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who gave this story a shot! We hope that you enjoyed it, and as always we welcome your comments. 
> 
> Even though this is the end of this fic, it's not the end for us, or for Lir! Both authors have just started new DMC fics, so please go check them out!
> 
> [Wires](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26933278/chapters/65731108) by solynacea  
> [The Wish](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26971597/chapters/65832673) by lickitysplit


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